


They Call Us Monsters

by headfirstfrhalos



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bank Robbery, Crimes & Criminals, Dubious Morality, F/M, Ghosts, Government Agencies, Government Conspiracy, Hallucinations, Inspired by Music, Las Vegas, M/M, Multi, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prison, Slow Burn, Solitary Confinement, Stealth Crossover, Superpowers, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headfirstfrhalos/pseuds/headfirstfrhalos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler and Josh have been called a lot of things over the course of their careers: criminals, vigilantes, terrorists, heroes. They've spent the last six years stealing from the rich and giving to the needy-- which isn't hard, considering the fact that they've got superpowers to help them out. But it all goes south when they get caught in the middle of an operation. Josh is shot and Tyler is arrested, and that should be the end of it, but it isn't, because Josh isn't dead. Not completely, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. These Bright Lights

**2016 (December)**

This was a mistake. Every action that had lead up to this moment was a _mistake_.

Fear choked Tyler as he pulled the darkness a little closer around himself, hiding underneath a desk. Through the veil of shadows he could sense the red and blue pulses of light outside the basement window and the white arcs of flashlights sweeping across the cement floors, the shadows of police officers stalking across the walls and on the floor. An entire SWAT team had coalesced in the tiny basement. It was only about fifteen feet long and wide, and almost all the space was taken up by an obscene amount of computers, many stolen. Fans whirred constantly to keep the room cool, and the room relied entirely on the glow of the screens for light. It always smelled of sweat, old food, and WD-40. Cameras flashed and computers were swept off desks and into large bags, all collected as evidence. Tyler tried to slow his breathing and come up with a way to escape.

A radio crackled to his right. "Suspects are in hiding. Permission to release the dogs. Over." 

_Shit._

There was no time to think. Tyler dissolved and started creeping up towards the ceiling, hoping he could crawl over them and into the house above, where he sensed Josh hiding in the attic. Occasionally, a beam of light would sweep across his shadow and he'd shudder at the feeling of his body evaporating around it as he slid across the wall. He sensed, rather than saw, the German shepherds being lead down the stairs, sniffing carefully for any sign of life. He spread himself a little thinner and slowed his heartbeat. 

He was halfway up the basement stairs when he heard a bark behind him. He yelped in surprise and accidentally phased back into solid form, body hitting the sharp wooden corners of the stairs hard. There was a beat of shock between both sides before an officer in the back yelled a 'hey, you!', beginning the chase. Tyler scrambled up the stairs, sometimes on all fours, making it to the first floor and immediately bolting for the back window. A set of sharp, drooling teeth clamped down on his ankle before he could. He screamed, pain and panic twisting in his chest and sublimating him into a cloud of shadow. He rushed for the second floor like a column of smoke. 

"Someone get him!"

Someone fired their gun. The bullet whizzed right through him and hit a picture frame at the top of the stairs, shattering the glass and leaving a smoking hole in his mother's face. Tyler swore and searched for the door to the attic. Another bullet was fired, along with a string of curses about superpowered freaks. He could feel Josh's presence above him, still hiding in the east corner of the attic where he had been sleeping before the raid. Footsteps were pounding their way up the stairs, and he felt his shadow waver as he heard something buzz and crackle behind him. Primal fear gripped him when he realized what it was, and he was only two feet away from the entrance to the attic when a nova of pain burst through his body. There was a moment of agony before he started melting out of his form, condensing and precipitating back into his human shape. He was in a daze as the officers advanced on him. His limbs felt like water and his sight was spinning. He only had the strength to slowly inch away until his back was to the wall, staring dazedly at the still-glowing cattle prod. He couldn't stop them from shoving him onto his stomach and cuffing him.

He also couldn't stop Josh from bursting through all the light bulbs like a crazed bolt of lightning. He appeared, shining dangerously bright, solidifying in front of Tyler to defend him. The officers and their dogs were forced back several feet. A thin tendril of light reached back to gently cradle Tyler's face and he almost wept at the reassurance.

"Stay back! Stay the fuck back!" Josh warned, and his golden light became a solid wall of energy.

The dogs whimpered and yanked at their chains. The officers looked like they wanted to run as well, but they steeled themselves and aimed their guns at him.

"Sir, put your hands behind your head and get on the ground," an officer ordered, "This is your first warning." Josh only growled and burned brighter. An officer attempted to use the prod on him. The metal tip melted before it could even touch his skin. The officer dropped it in surprise, and the carpet began to smolder where it lay.

"We will be forced to shoot," he continued. But he didn't sound so sure this time.

Josh pushed his wall farther forward, forcing the officers back to the top of the stairs. Tyler could hear the sounds of safeties clicking off. He struggled against his bonds as he watched Josh shoot arcs of solid light from his palms, knocking guns out of hands and burning officers left and right.

"Josh," he croaked, "fuck, stop, it's not worth it-- _Josh_!"

Someone must have slowed time because Tyler could see the bullets fly from the barrels and penetrate the hot, bright shield and rip through Josh's body, appearing from his back and burying themselves in the drywall behind them, glowing red with heat and cooked blood.

There was a beat of serenity. 

And Josh exploded.

Literally. Tyler was blinded and deafened at the sudden burst of light and sound as Josh shattered into a thousand tiny embers, his sharp pieces slicing and puncturing his skin. Smoke began to fill the room and set the fire alarms off. But all Tyler could hear was a ringing in his ears and the beating of his own heart. He stared at the huge blackened mark on the carpet, his mind desperately reaching out to find Josh's presence. But there was nothing.

The police seemed unaffected. They dusted themselves off before dragging Tyler to his feet, eventually carrying him when he couldn't stay upright. They treated him gingerly, wary of his mouth and cuffed arms as if he were a mad dog. He didn't have the energy to be offended. They took him outside, where three SWAT vehicles were waiting on his yard. Tyler noticed that they had parked right on top of the rose bushes. Two restrainers were in front of the vehicles, metal and Velcro shining in the headlights. They had expected both of them. He was completely limp as they uncuffed and transferred him, even when the fabric straps bit too hard into his arms and legs and made his fingers and toes tingle. There must have been a strap for every body part he had; a strap for his chest, a strap for his wrists, a strap for his neck and ankles and thighs and his forehead. An electric current thrummed through the entire contraption, ensuring that his powers were rendered completely useless. 

Tyler stared straight ahead at the front door as they wheeled him backwards into a van. He watched, motionless, as the two doors slammed in his face, obscuring his view of the little house and its fire-damaged window. His ears were still ringing from the explosion. The engine started, and Tyler was pulled away, down quiet roads and busy intersections until they arrived at the local police station, the one he remembered visiting when his car had been stolen a few years ago. He had waved the radio, the only thing left of his car, at the man working behind the desk, pleading for him to do something. The mustached man had laughed when Tyler told him that everything but the radio had been stolen. 

He was still thinking about his stolen car when he was unloaded and taken in for identification. They took his fingerprint and his mugshot. He saw his face on the computer screen as they finished and wheeled him away to his temporary cell. He thought he looked horrible with his gray, shell-shocked face and bound body. 

No less than four policemen monitored him as they slowly searched him for weapons before removing his restraints, replacing it with a strange sort of muzzle. It covered him from chin to forehead like a mask, the clear plastic hovering about an inch over his skin. It had wide holes over the eyes, nose, and mouth. The black straps held the mask in place were wrapped securely around his skull, only removable via an electronic lock at the very back. Two small metal diodes pressed into each of his temples, and Tyler could feel the tingling of a faint electric current running through his body. 

He was listless and compliant as they led him into a solitary cell. He stood behind the bars, looking at, but not seeing the four men and women leave. In all honesty, he didn't have the will or clarity to do more than breathe and blink. How could he not? Josh had been blown apart like a supernova and left a gaping black hole in Tyler's head. A part of his brain told him that he should be sad, that he should be crying his eyes out over the death of his lifelong friend, but the hurt never came. He'd run his mind over the hole like a tongue over a missing tooth, but the pain of the extraction and the ache of the tender gum was absent. He's fairly certain that meant he was in shock. 

The air under his muzzle was warm. The air from the vents was cold. It was dark behind his eyelids. The fluorescent lights seared his sight when he blinked.

He sat down on the bench. The cell had no bed, and the bench was hard and set into the wall. Tyler ran his fingers over the seat. Prisoners before him had carved their names into the cold metal. He didn't bother looking down to read them, blindly feeling the tiny ridges an canyons with the pads of his digits. His hands strayed to a smooth section of the bench, and he slowly began tracing Josh's name. J-O-S-H-U-A. He did it again and again, each in a different spot until he ran out of room on his bench and he stood up to cover the walls with an invisible name. He made variations, he searched his mind for everything he's ever called him.

J-O-S-H-U-A, J-O-S-H, J, M-Y B-E-S-T F-R-I-E-N-D

He sounded it out too. "Josh-u-a. Joshua." 

That's when it started to feel like something. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the bit where Tyler was thinking about his stolen car: My dad had a friend whose car had been stolen. The thief left the radio right on the driveway to mock him, and the guy at the police station almost didn't believe him when he told them about it.
> 
> About the muzzle: Tyler's muzzle is similar to the one used in the upcoming movie "The Girl with All the Gifts". I really liked the design; it's a lot more creative and modern than the Hannibal Lecter type muzzle. It looks kind of like this:  
> http://www.indiewire.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/the-girl-with-all-gifts.jpg
> 
> About Tyler and Josh's powers: Tyler is umbrakinetic, which means he can control shadows and dark energy. Josh is photokinetic, which means he can control light and energy. This story takes place in the SS universe, though the actual Suicide Squad won't have much, if any effect on the plot. It's simply known that people with powers exist, and Tyler and Josh have them. Superpowers can be controlled with electric currents.
> 
> About the title: The title of this story is taken from a 2016 documentary which focuses on juvenile prisons for minors with life sentences and asks whether these children can change or not. It's a very significant question and the title fit this story, so I used it here.
> 
> Thank you for reading what I have so far! Please comment or leave kudos and shit if you liked B^)


	2. No Photos, No Autographs, No Sudden Movements Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of student loans and tree house homes we all would take extortion.

**2009 (December)**

Josh sat next to someone named Tyler in English. He was relatively unremarkable, with brown eyes, hair, and skin, standing at an average height with an average build. He lived next door, was a junior, majored in Computer Programming, and wore black glasses that would always slide down his thin nose. He played the piano, liked basketball, stressed over midterms, and survived on a diet of Red Bull and microwavable burritos.

None of that caught his attention. And yet it did.

It was his... _something_. Josh was constantly aware of this very plain man for no discernible reason. He'd glace at him right before he turned to another page as he took notes, he'd spot him across the courtyard on his laptop as Josh made his way to his dorm, he'd pass by his unit in the mornings and know whether he was awake or not. It was the strangest thing and it bothered Josh to no end. Sometimes, when he and Tyler would chat about the weather before the English professor arrived, he'd be tempted to tell him about his odd ability. But he never did, because he didn't want to scare Tyler away. He didn't deserve to lose another acquaintance when he already didn't seem to have too many friends. Josh wasn't sure if he'd call Tyler a friend, but he was nice enough and wasn't a Republican, which, in Josh's book, was good enough.  

Josh lay on his bed, metal blasting through his headphones. It was three in the morning and he couldn't sleep. He stared at the greasy yellow light above the mattress, eyes lazily following the moth bouncing against the bulb. He pulled a bit of light down from the bulb and collected it in his palm, swirling it around and making it dance to the heavy beat.

He felt the vibrations of several pairs of feet thundering their way up the steps and down the hall, the resounding thud of a body hitting the hollow wall loud enough for Josh to hear. Worried, he paused his music, which revealed the sound of Tyler's panicked voice pleading to a silent stranger. 

"Hey, guys, please, I don't want to join your--"

There was another heavy thud, and a pained groan. It was quiet for a deadly moment before all the lights flickered once, twice, and went out with a _pop!_

A strange cold feeling swept over Josh, like a strong wind had come by and blew out his light like a candle. The little ball of light in his hands was swept away. Josh sat up, wandering through the dark to find the door to see just what the hell was going on outside.

He realized that his lights weren't the only ones that went out as he opened the door and peered into the hallway. The whole dormitory had plunged into darkness. The hallways were pitch black, and Josh could sense Tyler and two other guys, one halfway down the hall and the other pinned to the filthy carpet. The shadows were swirling around the three like a magnetic field, blooming from the smallest figure, hunched in front of Tyler's front door.

Josh's heart skipped a beat when it finally came to him.

"Tyler?" he asked.

Tyler looked up at him and Josh could barely make out his edges through all the swirling power. The vaguely man-shaped creature recoiled in surprise before attacking, throwing Josh against the wall at the far end of the hallway. The weight of Tyler's shadow crushed the air from his lungs as if it was a solid, physical thing. Panic flooded his mind and he pushed the attack back with his light, beginning with a weak glow that quickly blossomed into a brilliant starburst of white light. Tyler's blurry form retreated in surprise, the weight lifting off his chest. But he didn't turn his back on him as he disintegrated his two remaining prisoners into nothing. Josh feared that Tyler had killed them before he heard the sound of footsteps scurrying away outside the building a few seconds later. A wave of relief washed over him as the cold shadows began to retreat, slithering back into Tyler's body. The lights flickered on again, and Josh could see that Tyler was back in his physical form now, hunched and shivering, his glasses broken at his feet.

"Dude," Josh said, "What was that?"

Tyler got up off his side and sat against his door, head resting against the wood. His hands were shaking. "You know what it is. You've got it too."

"Well, yeah, but I meant to ask what happened with those guys. Did they hurt you?"

"They tried to," Tyler snorted, "They were scouting people with powers, like some sort of secret society. I didn't want to join and they got really mad. I guess I was something special."

Tyler sighed and ran a hand through his already-mussed hair. Josh could detect the shadows inside him sliding beneath his skin.

"Y'know, I did suspect something was up with you. I never would have guessed this, though," Josh said.

"What do you mean?" Tyler asked, now leaning forward to reach for the remains of his glasses.

"For the longest time I've just been _aware_ of you. Like, you could have been doing the most mundane thing ever but it would always get my attention. In hindsight, I realize that's because our powers kinda go together, but I didn't know that you had powers until now. I just assumed that you had, like, really good cologne or something."

Tyler fitted the two halves of his glasses together, holding it up to the light to see how he could tape the bits together. "Really? I actually felt that too," he said, setting his glasses down, "I didn't suspect anything of you, either. I just thought I was being creepy."

He pocketed his glasses and stood up.

"So are they gonna come back?" Josh asked as Tyler brushed the dust off his olive green jacket. 

"Probably not," Tyler said. "I think I scared them enough. Teleportation feels really weird if you're not expecting it, you know. Hey, come inside."

Tyler pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, swinging it open and waving Josh inside. "You're the first powered person I've ever met, so that automatically makes you my friend."

Josh accepted and walked inside.

* * *

 

**2016 (December)**

Tyler adjusted the coarse material of his orange jumpsuit, swallowing nervously. His heart had to fight for every beat past the pressure in his chest. Sweat was beginning to bead beneath his muzzle, and the constant drone of the electric current through his brain was maddening. He berated himself for being afraid as he sat in the defendant's seat. Of course he was going to lose. Of course the trial would he televised. Of course the entire nation was watching. What could he have possibly expected?

The dark double doors had opened at ten am sharp, revealing an expansive and beautifully-designed courtroom that Tyler tried not to stare at as he was escorted in. Dignified windows arched, wood was engraved, and marble floors and ceilings refracted all sorts of lights and sounds. Almost every seat had already been filled with people who perfectly matched the architecture in appearance and attitude; elegant, understated, and professional. He was the only one in neon orange, glaringly obvious like a red puddle of wine on a pristine white carpet.

Tyler bit the inside of his cheek as cameras were set up in the front corners of the room. The people behind them were dressed in beige and blue, adjusting focus, untangling wires, checking lighting. The microphone clipped on his collar was like a boulder around his neck. He wished Josh was with him. He imagined they would have grabbed each other's hands, or at least occasionally give each other glances whenever a particularly accusative word was thrown their way. 

"Court is now in session," the judge proclaimed, and the quiet murmuring of the audience and members of the court quickly settled, all eyes aimed at the front and center of the room.

Everyone swore that the evidence they shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them God.

Accusation went first. The woman, tall, dark, and handsome with a once-broken nose giving her the look of an eagle, paced back and forth before the judge as she listed off his many crimes. Grand theft, cybercrime, robbery, extortion, murder, money laundering, kidnapping and hostage-holding, aggravated assault, and unlawful use of advantageous abilities. 

All in all, it added up to two hundred sixty-three years in prison. Or a death sentence. Tyler tried to doctor his expression into something less frightened, something less ashamed, to no avail. She continued, listing off the names of the people he and Josh had killed in the name of financial gain one by one, how they broke into banks, physical and digital, and spirited away the life savings of thousands of innocents to squander on ego-stroking charity that helped absolutely no one. 

The cameras rolled. 

Defense went next. His attorney, a bone-white boulder of a man, like a marble column, stood up and spoke like a preacher, standing in place, arms waving and gesturing, spittle flying through the air and catching the light. He romanticized Tyler's efforts, the lives he'd saved by paying for strangers' hospital bills and groceries, how he and Josh were the most powerful vigilantes the United States had ever seen, how they had taken forty million dollars out of the hands of corrupt CEOs and politicians and into the needy palms of the nation's most vulnerable. For a moment, Tyler almost believed what he said.

But impassioned or not, Tyler knew he would not win the sympathy of the court. The news stations had eaten away at their image for over six years. It didn't matter that they didn't keep a single cent of the money, or that twenty-seven million had gone into forgiving student debt alone. He and Josh were homicidal, bank-robbing delusionists with powers they didn't deserve.

All he could hope for was getting out of a death sentence.

The two attorneys argued. Tyler destroyed people's livelihoods. Tyler _restored_ people's livelihoods. He stole money. He gave it back. The enraptured audience watched the two lawyers go back and forth.

Tyler himself was a million miles away. He knew there was no chance of him getting away with sixty, seventy, or even eighty years.His state-provided attorney had taken off his round glasses and pinched the bridge his nose when he first saw Tyler in jail, curled up in the corner, his tears dripping from the bottom of his muzzle. There was no way he could ever justify himself, and the whole court knew it. This whole trial was just to give an angry public a sense of closure.

The cameras rolled.

He tried not to sigh too loudly as he folded his cuffed hands, watching his knuckles turn white where he knotted his fingers together. The little light on his microphone beeped red, recording his every breath. A part of him considered ripping off his muzzle and plunging the whole courtroom into darkness, transfiguring himself into a wraith and crawling out the window to freedom. If freedom meant a life forever spent on the run.

Minutes crawled into hours. The clock read twelve twenty-seven. Tyler's back was beginning to hurt from sitting, and his initial anxiety had faded into a faint pressure on his chest. They were now in the final stages of the trial. The attorneys were back in their seats, the jury had made up their minds, and now the judge sat at his podium, salt-and-pepper hair reflecting the light as he reviewed paperwork that Tyler could not see from his low position. He chewed his lip, wondering if it was possible to feel scared and bored at the same time. 

"After much careful thought and consideration, I, Judge Finch, sentence Tyler Robert Joseph to one hundred and ninety-one years in prison for grand theft, extortion, manslaughter, kidnapping and hostage-holding, aggravated assault, and the unlawful use of advantageous abilities. Court is dismissed."

Tyler's heart crawled down into the soles of his feet as everyone filed out with an air of solemnity. The two security guards came back to escort him out of the courtroom, his attorney following not far behind. The four left last, listening to the audience chatter as they exited.

It was very, very loud outside the court. The air was stuffy and clogged with conversation. Reporters and cameramen had been waiting outside to ambush them, and they were everywhere, shoving microphones and cameras into Tyler's face the moment he emerged.

"Mr. Joseph! How does it feel being one of the world's most successful bank robbers?"

They swerved left.

"Mr. Joseph! Is it true that Josh Dun died saving you?"

A camera flashed in his face.

"Mr. Joseph! Has anyone you helped ever thanked you?"

Tyler gritted his teeth. 

"Mr. Joseph!"

"Mr. Joseph!"

The security guards walked him faster through the crowd when the reporters began to shove. Tyler was quickly lead down the stairs at the front of the building and into a waiting police car. The reporters' raucous voices were muffled after the door shut, and Tyler sighed gratefully. He leaned his head against the back of the seat as the engine started and the car pulled away from the columned building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I'm also telling the story of how they met and the crimes they committed together that lead up to Tyler's time in prison and the fight to achieve his ultimate goal, because not only do I need to make these chapters longer, including the backstory helps build our understanding of Tyler and Josh's relationship and will make certain things in the story a little clearer. Also I just wanted something from Josh's POV because I felt like that would be nice. 
> 
> Tyler majored in computer programming and Josh majored in psychology and minored in music. 
> 
> 'Unlawful use of Advantageous Abilities' is when a person with superpowers uses them to help commit a crime. It's always tacked onto the end of a record of any 'advantaged' criminal. The amount of time it adds towards the final sentence depends on the crime. For petty crime, it usually adds a month or two, while more serious crimes can add ten years or more.
> 
> Tyler and Josh were bank robbers, yes. They stole over $40 million and used the money to pay back other people's debts after they themselves were made homeless after they weren't able to pay off their many bills and debts. They'd hack into banks, or rob a brick-and-mortar one, or take people hostage. They were never caught because their abilities gave them several advantages over the police ie being able to disappear, control the levels of lighting, etc.
> 
> Gosh I hope the wording is okay I've been on diphenhydramine for the past several days and it's making me really drowsy and soft in the head so forgive me if the sentences make no sense I don't have the mental capability to register any mistakes at the moment.


	3. A Drop of Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A drop of (water/life/you) is all I need.
> 
> Minor emetophobia warning.

**2016 (December)**

He was somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, they said. But he couldn't ascertain that they were telling the truth without any windows.

The trip had begun at Columbus's Police HQ, where an army helicopter waited on the roof. The craft was built like a flying tank; it was five tons of steel armor with an electrified shield sparking across the surface and anti-aircraft guns set all over the body. The narrow windows at the nose were made of reinforced, thrice-tempered glass five inches thick and the pilots were bulletproof in Kevlar and gas masks. When he was lead inside, he saw that the helicopter had a tiny built-in cell, nine feet wide and long with a comfortable chair inside. 'Comfortable' meaning it only restricted his hands and didn't make his back ache the moment he sat down. They strapped him down and left, sealing the door with a pneumatic hiss. The lights in the cell brightened to an uncomfortable level. It seemed that naps weren't allowed.

They flew for over an hour. Tyler spent that time with his eyes shut, stomach churning with nausea as the turbulent wind clawed at the helicopter. The fact that his brain kept reminding him that he was going to prison _forever_ didn't settle his insides either. In fact, the thought made his whole body ache with distress and he felt his throat tighten. His fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms.

He was never more grateful to be on the ground when the helicopter finally touched down. He was released from his cell and lead off the helicopter, and he was, like always, silent in his chains as he marveled at how gray everything was. The sky pressing down on him, the mud seeping into his clothes, the sea surrounding him, the walls that entrapped him, all of it was grey. Again he was a fluorescent speck of orange lost and misplaced in a muted background.

The prison took up most of the space on the small island. Belle Rêve was a heavyset fortress, its towering cement walls sinking into the mud. He felt impossibly small as he entered. There was an almost comical number of guards, all of them a head taller than Tyler or more, muscles bulging against the fabric of their uniforms as they sulked in corners and doorways. Powerful stun guns were clipped onto their belts, glinting menacingly against the hard white light, the guards hardly deigning to lower the gazes as he was lead past them. They were very, very strong too, the two assigned to escort him gripping him like their hands had been welded to his shoulders. Even the people working behind the computers and cameras had at least six inches and twenty-five pounds on him.

They stopped in front of a white screen, a camera aimed at his face. It felt as if he were before a firing squad.

"Look into the camera," an absolute bull of a woman behind the camera said, "and say cheese."

The camera flashed and he was taken to the next station before he could even begin to prepare.

Now he was sat down in a steel chair, held down against the cold metal as a nurse dressed in the same orange jumpsuit as Tyler prepared an injection. His chest tightened when she wrenched his right wrist over and slid a thick needle into the pale flesh in one swift, rough movement. Tyler couldn't stop his yelp of pain he made when she depressed the plunger, a small bulge rising beneath his skin, ripping brusquely through the tissue. She removed the needle and wiped his wrist with alcohol, taking out a handheld scanner and holding it over the lump and clicking a button, nodding when the little grey machine made a small beep.

This continued for several minutes, taking his fingerprints, blood type, height, weight, everything Tyler knew about himself and more, adding it all to the prison's enormous database. When they were finally done, they lead him to another room equipped with a shower head (no walls or curtain), a sink, and a bench. He was stripped, uncuffed and unmasked, and sat down on the bench. A barber, clad in orange like the nurse, entered with a razor, shaving off his hair, the brown tufts floating gently onto the damp floor. He stared at his hair for a moment, the memory of it being tousled and tugged playfully by Josh inexplicably coming to mind. 

He was handed a bar of soap and a washcloth. The shower turned on without warning, spraying Tyler with a barrage of surprisingly warm water. The last vestiges of his modesty dissipated as he scrubbed three days' worth of grime off his body, running his hands over his face, realizing how much he missed being able to touch it without the plastic mask in the way. The water shut off all too soon, and he was thrown a threadbare towel. A new jumpsuit, the exact same color and design as his first pair, was waiting on the bench. The only difference was Belle Rêve's logo emblazoned on the back. The black image of the reaper behind bars glared at him. He shook its visage out of his brain and put it on without thought. Now he was ready.

He was lead some ways through barren halls before he began to hear the echoes of inmates' conversations. He suspected that at least part of the prison was underground. The narrow, low hallway suddenly opened up into a vast chamber, five stories high and lined with cells, catwalks arcing from wall to wall. A watchtower was placed smack in the middle of the room and surveillance cameras were nestled in every nook and cranny. That wasn't the worst part. It was the other inmates taking notice of his arrival.

He's seen movies about prison before, where the inmates hoot and holler and whistle at new prisoners and call them fresh meat. He was worried that that would happen to him upon arrival, but if he was going to be honest, silence was worse. The prisoners' words dribbled to a stop when the steel doors slid open to reveal Tyler, and the enormous room was silent save for the rushing of air and water through the rusting pipes and the roar of the ocean somewhere distant. Hundreds of orange shapes waited behind the bars, observing this tiny parade of two guards and a prisoner about to drop dead of nerves and exhaustion like vultures watching a dying man. 

He felt their eyes on him, tapping his shoulders and tugging at his shoelaces, begging for a response, but Tyler willfully ignored it and stared at the ground. He didn't want them to know how afraid he was. It wasn't because he was the smallest or the weakest or the prettiest, no, it was the fact that everyone knew who he was. The fact that he was an anxious wreck. The fact that he was alone. 

He bit the inside of his cheek as he was lead to the third floor, the seventh cell on the right. Cell 021C. He saw that the sheets on the bunk were still rumpled from the last inmate that had lived inside. The barred door to the cell opened on its own accord, rusty hinges swinging the heavy steel out with a painful screech and slamming against the cement wall so hard the lights flickered. The guards shoved him inside and shut the door, the heavy _clunk, clunk, clunk_ of their boots fading away into nothing. The whole building was quiet. 

Tyler now had the tine to take in his surroundings. His cell was small, about ten feet long and wide, the bed, toilet, and sink taking up about half the space inside. The barred door gave no privacy, and there was no barrier between the toilet and the rest of the cell. Everything in and about the cell was worn to the bone. The thin mattress was musty and thin, the metal on the toilet and sink was rusty and encrusted with limescale, and the walls of the cell itself were lined with cracks and chipping away in some parts. As Tyler looked more closely, he saw that graffiti had been carved into nearly every surface available. 

  * _ALCAS SUCK MY COCK_


  * _FUCK OFFICER PETROSEAN_


  * _RONNY+ME_


  * _MAD MAN 1967-∞_



He ran his fingers over the carvings, remembering the ones in the city jail. That felt like lifetimes ago. But it had only been a week and a half since his arrest. 

He sat down on his bed. The cushion was thin and still smelled like the last inmate. He closed his eyes, imagining that he was back in the house with Josh, that the harsh glow of the single fluorescent light was warmer, that his jumpsuit was softer, that the dull ache in his chest and behind his eyes was nothing more than tiredness from staying up late at night. It didn't work.

He flopped over onto his back and sighed, resting his forearm over his eyes. This time, he tried to think of nothing. It worked for a time, until the smell of something edible brought him back to reality. He sat up.

There was a smaller door set into the bars of the cell where food was delivered. The tray had been left by someone on the little platform attached to the opening. It was a sandwich with a cup of water sitting on its left. Tyler wondered how he was able smell it past the stink of wet cement and chemical cleaners in the building when he realized that he hadn't eaten since the trial. That was about two days ago. He took the tray and sat down at the edge of his bed, mouth prickling with an embarrassing amount of saliva. 

His stomach was caving in with hunger, but he felt no satisfaction when he took the first bite. It wasn't in the next, either. Or the next, or the next, or the next, but he ate until nary a crumb remained on his plate. He downed his cup of water in two quick gulps to combat the dryness of the sandwich and to perhaps fill is stomach a little more, all to no avail. He shot upright, tray clattering off his lap and onto the floor, suddenly feeling frantic as he raced to the sink and filled the paper cup with cold, bitter water, pouring it down his throat as quickly as he filled it. He filled the cup again and again, eventually discarding it and resorting to sucking the water straight from the spout, splashing all over his face and his arms and clothes, going up his nostrils and choking him but he didn't care, he _needed_ water. His stomach sloshed with water but he couldn't stop. It wasn't his stomach that needed filling, he realized. He drank and drank and _drank_.

He only yanked away when the water spilled into his lungs, and he pulled away, coughing and hacking. His stomach ached in protest, heavy and cold with oceans of water swallowed far to quickly. Tyler coughed again and now his innards lurched once, twice, and he didn't even have time to run to the toilet less than two feet away before everything he had consumed flew back out and splashed onto the sink. Out came what felt like gallons of diluted, painless water that soon began to burn as the partly-digested remains of his sandwich re-emerged, the acid chewing away the tissue in his esophagus and his sinuses as vomit forced its way out through his nose. Tears were streaming down his face, mixing with he mess he had made all over himself and he wasn't sure if the noise he just made was a dry heave or a sob. He breathed heavily through his mouth, his whole body suddenly feeling weak as he trembled on place, bent over the sink. His elbows pressed into the hard ceramic of the sink's edge, hands wet and the orange fabric stained with unclean water, soaked skin growing cold where the cool air brushed past. 

"Dude, are you alright?" a voice asked.

Tyler whipped around, searching for the source of the sound. All he saw behind him was the gray concrete walls and the filthy toilet. 

"Hello?" he asked. "Is someone out there?"

There was no response.

* * *

**2009 (December)**

Tyler was actually pretty cool, in an odd little way. He taught himself how to play the piano and could carry a pretty tune. He was probably the only person he's met who actually liked 'All My Sons'. He was originally planning on majoring in Philosophy before his parents made him change his mind. 

"Computer science and programming has a lot more growth anyways," Tyler said, swinging his feet as they sat together on a bench. 

"Do you enjoy it, though?" Josh asked.

Tyler shrugged. "It's really difficult at times, but I actually don't mind it. It's useful and it makes my parents happy and it's really amazing how much you can create with computers," he said. "It's like creating your own universe with code."

"Huh. That actually is really cool. Do you learn how to hack stuff in that class?"

"Not directly, at least. Hacking is just creating a program that allows it to access information in other people's computers, so I technically _do_ know how to. I just haven't found a reason yet."

"What _would_ you do it for?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'll be the next Snowden. Hack into the Pentagon and find out that the government was planning on harvesting people's powers and making supersoldiers with them."

Tyler's mouth quirked in a half-smile.

"They would, though," Josh said. 

"Yeah. I mean, I don't blame 'em, a million of me would be the greatest thing ever, but it's kinda like the atomic bomb. It might work a little too well."

"Definitely."

They fell into a comfortable silence. The campus's courtyard was completely deserted. Even the leaves had left, leaving the skeletons of trees naked in the late November cold. A few shriveled husks of leaves scraped by their feet as the breeze picked up. Tyler watched as Josh crunched a leaf under the toe of his sneaker. 

"You know, you never told me why you weren't going to see your family for Thanksgiving," Josh said.

Tyler sighed. "I don't know. It's a lot of things. My parents think I shouldn't even be going to public college and if I ever visit them, I don't think they'll let me leave the house again." He laughed a little at that. "Especially if I told them how I've been doing."

"Is it because of your-?"

Josh made an aborted gesture with his hands. Tyler nodded.

"They don't think I'll be able to live on my own, for a number of reasons. And I can understand where they're coming from, I really do, but I'm twenty-two and I need to learn how to fend for myself. They won't always be there for me, no matter what they say."

"Yeah, I get that," Josh said, "I had like, no friends when I was a kid because my parents didn't want anyone to know what I could do." 

"Did your parents homeschool you?"

"They thought about it, but no, they didn't. I couldn't have any sleepovers though. Why, did they homeschool you?"

"All the way to twelfth grade," Tyler said, "They meant the best, but they ended up doing more harm than good. If I'm gonna be honest with you, I think they were ashamed of me. And they still probably am. Not just because I had these powers in the first place, but because I couldn't do anything useful with it."

Tyler scuffed his feet on the ground, eyes downcast. 

"What do you mean?" Josh asked, confusion and indignation rising in his throat.

"Being able to control and turn into darkness itself-- there's a lot of unfortunate connotations there, religious ones. Uh, I remember my grandparents insisting that I needed an exorcist when I was about seven. That was when I started getting the hang of causing blackouts. They weren't allowed to come over to our house again after that, but I still heard them. And my parents lost a lot of friends after I was born, probably 'cause they thought the same things my grandparents did. So they didn't really let me out after that, and I know they wished I could have a nicer power, like summoning deer or creating flowers or something. Instead, I'd just disappear whenever I didn't want to eat dinner."

"Dude, what the fuck is up with your family? Like, no offense, but it wasn't right for them to think of you as some sort of demon or something just because you were a little different."

Tyler waved him off. "I really don't care anymore. I'm not ashamed of what I am and their opinions are just that-- opinions. I'm away from them now, and they can't bother me anymore now that I'm an adult." He paused, swallowing. "But you seem really upset. Did your parents do the same to you?"

It _did_ bother him, Josh could tell. But he played along and let him steer the conversation to him for his sake.

"It wasn't my parents so much as it was the kids at school. I'm not really too sure how old most people are when they're finally able to control their powers, but I couldn't control any of it up until the seventh grade or so. If I was happy, I'd start shining really bright, if I was mad about something, all the light bulbs in the room would explode. At first, everyone thought it was cool and kinda weird, but as time went on it just became weird. And annoying. But I couldn't help it, no matter how much my parents begged me to try and keep it cool so people wouldn't bother me about it. I remember this one kid, Austin, he'd make me mad just so I'd blow something up and get the teacher mad at me. It was _fun_ for them to see that, I guess. I don't know how much money my elementary school lost towards replacing light bulbs."

Josh made a small sound of amusement in the back of his throat as he finished, leaning back in his seat. Tyler nodded, turning away and falling silent to stare off at something far away. Josh observed him, taking in the cold fists tucked beneath his legs, the pinkness of his exposed ears and nose, the shadows swirling deep inside him, woven into his very essence. It was still something Josh took constant note of. Tyler and his shadows shivered with cold. Concerned, he looked around for any outsiders before he began to glow, softly, gently, like the domestic flame of a candle. It was warmer than it was bright, and his whole body was quickly flooded with heat. He expanded his aura, warmth sailing out into the empty space between him and Tyler like a child sailor pushing a toy boat into the middle of a tranquil pond, the cold and damp rippling away from the ribbons of heat. 

It took a moment for Tyler to notice, and another for him to realize where it was coming from. He looked at Josh, his expression a jumble of confusion, gratitude, and a bit of apprehension.

"You looked cold," Josh said. 

Tyler looked over his shoulder.

"And don't worry," he continued, bringing Tyler's attention back to him, "no one's here anyways."

"Thanks, dude."

Tyler's shoulders relaxed as the warmth soaked into his bones, the goosebumps he saw on the exposed slices of his wrists smoothing back into his skin. The gray clouds laying thick and gravid above them began to cry, snowflakes hurling themselves to the earth in slow-motion, melting away to nothing as they left cold little kisses all over the two.  _We must look like a snowglobe,_ Josh thought. _Everything's so still except for the snow._

The wind blew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full name of the prison island is 'La Isla de las Alcas' as a reference to both Alcatraz (island of the pelicans) and to Tyler's song about a certain isle of flightless birds. 'Alcas' is Spanish for 'auk', a large, flightless bird that lived in the northern Atlantic ocean and went extinct sometime in the mid-19th century. The fictional island of Alcas once hosted a large number of these birds before they were hunted to extinction.
> 
> The showers at Belle Rêve are warm to prevent people from escaping. If the prisoners got used to the warm water, they would be able to tolerate the cold water of the northern Atlantic better should they try to escape. This was actually a tactic used on Alcatraz. 
> 
> I just wanted to end the chapter on a cute note to make up for the cliffhanger in the first half. This was the longest chapter I've written yet! I do want to keep most of them at the 3000+ mark to keep people's interest, and I feel like I've gotten off to a rough start with the first two chapters, but I think I'm starting to get the hang of structuring the story and I'm slowly figuring out the ending, as well as the dynamics of this universe. You may have noticed that I am trying to update every 6 days, which isn't a strict schedule but it does help to give me a sense of structure and a good time frame to complete a chapter (even though I usually only do actual writing on the last 2-3 days lmao). 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented! I really appreciate it! But from now on I'm not going to reply to comments (unless they're a question) to keep from inaccurately inflating the number of comments that people see for #honesty but I just want y'all to know that I saw your comment and I am trying not to die of excitement as I reread it like twenty times.


	4. Won't Tell You Who I'm Singing Towards

**2017 (January)**

Tyler didn't forget about the voice he heard. He knew it was just a result of all the stress, but things were shaping up to be so boring that he lingered on every peculiarity. He was inside all day, save for the twenty minutes in the showers and the hour in the recreational yard outside. The other twenty two hours and forty minutes were spent doing nothing. He didn't have a job, he didn't have access to the library, he couldn't play an instrument or draw or write and the camera trained at his bed meant he couldn't even jack off peacefully. God. 

They finally evaluated him on the seventh day and decided he was stable enough to eat with the rest of the inmates and visit the library on the weekdays. But he couldn't get a job until he had been here for two more months. No barbering or woodworking or nursing until then.

The cafeteria wasn't that bad. It was dark and damp like the rest of the building and the food was sub-par, but it was an extra three times he was out of his cell. And there were a few freedoms. He wasn't cuffed. He didn't _have_ to eat. And he could leave any time he wanted, provided he be escorted back to his cell by a guard. If he just focused on those aspects, he could ignore the smell of mildew and crappy food and tune out the roar of three hundred other inmates talking and eating and occasionally fighting.

It was the twenty-first day (he still hadn't lost track of time). Mechanically, he picked at his peas and chewed his chicken. The table was overcrowded and he was being crushed between two strangers' shoulders. More than once was a forkful of food knocked out of his hand by an errant elbow or his shins bruised by a jabbing knee and his jaw tightened a little more each time it happened. An extra-hard shove from the right slammed him into the irate prisoner on his left, who looked down at him with a critical eye.

"Watch it," he growled, before returning to his meal.

Tyler was annoyed enough to talk back. "It wasn't me."

The inmate turned back to look at him again, his irritation blending with curiosity when he studied Tyler's face a little longer. "Say, aren't you Tyler Joseph? The bank robber. Hostage-holder. And a bunch of other things."

Tyler had no idea which direction this conversation was about to head, but he didn't like any of it. Still, he nodded.

Something changed in the man's face.

"Was it fun?" he asked, and now Tyler was getting worried because all the anger seemed to have disappeared from this man's voice.

"Excuse me?" he asked, trying not to wilt under his gaze. 

"Was it _fun_ ," he repeated, not breaking eye contact, "Taking money from people who worked their whole life for it? And then claiming to give it to the people who needed it most?"

Anger gradually crept back into the man's voice until his last word was a snarl. Tyler's throat tightened. The man was working himself into a frenzy. "You're the reason why I'm here, you know. I woke up one morning to find that everything I had worked for, for twelve years, was gone." 

He got up from his seat. Tyler had a good view of his fists from his place at the table as the man hovered over him. A microchip like his own bulged in his wrist, surrounded by angry sinew and tendons. Tyler absentmindedly wondered what this man's ability was.

"I was something. I was _someone_. I wasn't just some _thug_ going nowhere in life. I had a family, I had kids. But the only way I could keep feeding them was if I went back to everything I wanted to escape and they caught me and took me away. Away from my wife, from my two kids, from any chance of becoming _something better!_ " 

Somehow, Tyler saw his fist coming. He ducked and it grazed his cheek, the hard knuckles whistling past his ear. The people surrounding them watched with interest, expecting a fight. Fine, he'd give them one. Tyler didn't have the energy or the patience to be afraid of this man or care about him. He just didn't give a shit. So when he dared Tyler to stop being a coward and get up, he did. And when the man raised his fist again, Tyler lunged forward with a raised elbow, catching the man across the jaw and sending both him and Tyler into the table behind them. It hurt, even with the body of the other man to cushion the blow. The man was more dazed than he, and Tyler took advantage of this and used the time to re-position himself, sending both him and the man tumbling to the ground, Tyler's unimpressive weight of a hundred fifty-seven pounds seeming like a thousand more when he bore down on his chest and throat, white-knuckled fingers twining around a powerful neck. He watched, impassive as the man slowly turned blue beneath his hold. 

The struggle was short. After mere seconds Tyler found himself yanked away from the other and pinned to the ground, arms twisted backwards painfully by a guard, ordering him to surrender. But he thrashed like a landed fish. He knew he had no right to resist, he knew he was in the wrong for trying to kill that man (or whatever the hell he was trying to do). But he didn't want to be punished. A dart pinched his thigh through his jumpsuit and solved the problem. The tranquilizer entered his bloodstream and quickly turned him to stone.

He was still conscious as they took him away, carrying him gingerly in his cuffs the same way they did the night of his arrest. Everything was blurry and fuzzy-sounding and he could only stare vacantly at the ceiling as he was lead to god-knows-where. He had counted seventy-two (three? four?) fluorescent lights when they arrived at their destination: a cell. 

He suspected that it was his own until they laid him down on the bed (it smelled a bit different). They then uncuffed him, a guard mumbling something incomprehensible into a handheld radio before they left him behind, and it was only as they were leaving did Tyler realize that the door was made of solid steel. Shocked, he tried to get up out of the bed and study the door. He could barely keep his balance and his eyes didn't want to focus or stay open, but he leaned against the wall and eventually staggered to the door, reverent fingers floating forward to confirm that his eyes were not deceiving him. The metal was cold and smooth, an island of clarity in an ocean of jumbled senses and thoughts.

He touched the door again, and again, and again because whatever drug was used in that tranquilizer was making it very difficult for him to tear away. He sank down from an awkward squat into a limp puddle on the ground. He wanted to sleep on top of the door if he could, it was so smooth and cool and solid and--

"Tyler."

The voice was like the steel door, ringing clear and true through a murky landscape of sound. Tyler looked up, eyes struggling to focus as he searched for the source of the voice. 

"Tyler," the voice said again, insistent, and Tyler's eyes were drawn to the man sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked the way he sounded; clear and focused and pleasant to the senses. He also looked just like--

"Josh?" he asked.

"Tyler," Josh said again for the third time, "Can you see me?"

"Yes," Tyler said, voice lowering to a whisper, "You're here."

Josh got up and made his way to Tyler, looming over him, and Tyler didn't feel the least bit threatened as he crouched down next to him. His hand, the one attached to the arm with the tattoo (he couldn't remember if it was called the right or the left) settled onto his shoulder, a warm and comforting and  _real_ presence. The hand roamed north to his cheek, and now Tyler can feel the texture of his hands. They were soft, and the memories of the thousands of times he'd wrap his hands with tape before settling behind his drum kit all thundered in and out his mind like a passing stampede.

"How did you come?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Josh said, and now he was helping Tyler sit upright, back against the door. Once Tyler was settled he sat down cross-legged across from him, and Tyler wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but he could detect a soft glow around Josh body like a halo. His microchip tingled. "I just kind of appeared here."

"Woah," he said, unable to think of a better response. "Is that possible?"

"I'm here, so I guess it is."

Tyler was about to respond when someone banged at the door, sending vibrations down his back. "Who're you talking to, inmate?" a female voice asked.

Tyler turned away from Josh and opened the little slot in the middle of the door. A blurry pair of blue eyes were waiting for him.

"I'm talking to Josh," he said to her, when it occurred to him that she probably didn't know who Josh was. "He's my friend. He's just coming by to check on me."

The eyes stared at him for a good three seconds before they vanished, replaced by a barking order to check the security cameras in case someone had somehow sneaked in. Tyler, however, wasn't paying attention to any of that. All that big talking made his head swim. With much effort, he let the little lid thing slap shut and turned away from the door, ready to continue his conversation with Josh.

"Hey, Jo--"

But Josh was gone.

* * *

**2010 (January)**

Josh was _screwed_. He could literally feel something inside him wither and die as he stared at the pink slip of paper in his inbox. What on earth had he done wrong? A quick peek at his coworkers' inboxes suggested that it wasn't just him. Pink paper peeked from nearly everyone else's boxes. He resisted the urge to crumple his paper and throw it away and donned his apron. He had vegetables to sort. 

He talked with Lena during their ten-minute break when they were certain their manager was out of earshot. 

"So," he said, taking off his hairnet and running a hand through his dark hair, "Guess who just got fired."

"You?" she asked, sipping her energy drink.

"Yup."

"You know why they're doing it, don't you?" she asked.

"Nope."

She sighed. "It's 'cause they're raising minimum wage. And making health benefits and stuff mandatory for employers to give to full-time workers. But they don't wanna pay for all of that, so they're getting rid of all the full-time workers and replacing them with part-timers."  

Josh looked at her. "You have to be kidding."

"I wish I was." 

Her voice was bitter and her eyes were tired, and in the blue, dim light, she looked two decades older than she really was. He didn't want to look at her.

Josh stared at the clock on the cement wall. A calendar hung beneath it, the image of a tropical sunset so far away from the reality of a grocer's break room, smelling like old food and old machines, the light inhospitable, the air conditioning set too cold. He was thinking many, many thoughts, but the one that kept returning like a dog was _this sucks_.

One twenty-nine became one thirty, and their break ended.

He was finally able to scream when he got home. And he did, a frustrated roar that shook the walls and blew out the light bulbs overhead. He threw his bag out of his hands and collapsed against the wall, hitting the back of his head hard and sliding down onto the ground. His psychology homework had slid out from the unzipped top of his backpack, and he stared at it for a good moment before kicking it away, smacking his head on the hollow wall again for good measure.

The smoke from the blown-out light bulbs filled the room with a wretched stench and activated the fire alarms. At least he knew they worked now. He let the shrill beeping assault his ears. 

He had two weeks to find a new job, but if he was going to be honest, he would need twice that amount or even more to even secure an interview. Because this economy was _so_ great. Everyone had well-paying jobs, so they could pay for rent and water _and_ food at the same time. They had a car that worked, a house that wasn't falling apart, and they had a little extra to save for retirement or a vacation or a concert. Yes, the American economy was absolutely fucking _booming_ and George W. Bush better ready his hands because they're about to be shaken so hard by Joshua Dun out of gratitude for all the amazing things he's done for the country since 2001. 

There was a knock on the door.

Josh begrudgingly got up and answered it, revealing a very concerned-looking Tyler.

"Dude, what happened?" he asked. "There was yelling, and then something glass broke? And now the fire alarm," he noted, peering over Josh's shoulder to behold the catastrophe. 

"Got fired," he said, cutting to the chase. 

Tyler looked back to Josh. "Dang," he said, and that made Josh laugh a bit because that was probably the closest he's ever gotten to swearing. 

"But yeah. I'm screwed. I only have two weeks to find a new job and I'm not sure if that's possible. Thanks for checking on me."

He started to close the door when Tyler grabbed his shoulder. "No, no, no, don't go back in there," he said. "We're having a sleepover. We're gonna eat so many chips and watch movies until three in the morning, and then we're gonna hate ourselves in the morning because we stayed up too late and didn't do any of our homework."

"Is this your version of going to the bar?" Josh asked, feeling his mood lift at Tyler's suggestion. 

"Yes. Now turn off that smoke alarm and come over."

If Josh was going to be honest with himself, Tyler's dorm room was awful. It was identical in size and design, but it seemed bigger from the lack of furniture. There was nothing but a worn sofa and a rickety desk with a stool to go with it. Textbooks were stacked on the ground at the feet of the desk, and papers were scattered everywhere, on the floor, under the sofa, taped to the walls, even in the kitchen, where Josh was told there was food. 

"Tyler, do you, like, eat paper or something? There's no food," he said, searching the cupboards after finding the refrigerator bare.

Tyler looked up from where he was hastily organizing what little he had. "There's no food?" he asked, incredulous.

"Nope," Josh said, giving up and heading for the living room, joining Tyler on the sofa. "But how long has it been empty? 'Cause you said that like you didn't realize there wasn't anything."

Tyler waved him off. "Don't worry, Josh. I mostly just get my food outside. Anyways, you're the one who got fired. It's your moment."

"Aw, thanks," Josh said. "But what are we gonna do?"

"Movie," Tyler said, getting up fetch his computer. He settles back down and smacks the keyboard and it wheezes to life, chuffing out air from the side vents. It takes a few seconds for the screen to boot up, and when it does, Josh sees that there's at least twenty different windows are open, all of them containing enormous chunks of code. Tyler minimizes it all and opens up Putlocker.com. 

"Because no one can afford Netflix," Tyler jokes. It takes a long time for the site to load, and even longer for Josh's movie of choice to buffer.

"Could you like, hack into Netflix?" Josh asks, half-joking, half-serious, because he honestly doesn't know the first thing about computers. Who knows what Tyler could be learning in those classes?

"Nah," Tyler says, "I've got enough on my plate."

"So you _can_?"

"Probably, if I put my mind to it. That also applies to pretty much everything else in my life. But I don't."

"Same. Oh, hey, the movie's starting."

Titanic's opening scene appeared on-screen, the soundtrack filling the air around them. Josh hoisted his legs up onto the sofa and Tyler did the same. A few minutes in, he noticed that the screen was getting brighter when he realized that it was Tyler filling the room with darkness for better visibility. 

"Thanks, dude."

"No problem, Josh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh I'm sorry if this chapter isn't as good (especially because it's so late) but I've had a busy week and I've been quite out of it for some time; I'm hoping that I can get back on my feet soon because I do want this story to be Goode.


	5. No Angels Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an isolated system, entropy can only increase.

**2017 (January)**

Tyler woke up on the ground, clothes damp, back aching. It took him a moment for him to remember where he was and what happened. He sat up, shuddering at the unpleasant feeling of the cold air on his wet clothes and skin. His mouth tasted foul. He walked to the sink in the corner and washed his mouth and face. He wiped his face on his dry sleeve and inspected his surroundings.

It was the same as his old cell, but different. There was no graffiti carved on this cell at all. There was the heavy steel door on the other side of the room, with a smudge near the bottom where his face had pressed against it yesterday. The sheets on his bed had only been disturbed once, a single Tyler-shaped ripple. There was no sign that anyone had sat on its edge.

But it had felt so real. His hand on his cheek, his voice, even the warmth he felt when Josh got near him. If his extra senses hadn't been rendered null by the little metal pellet in his wrist, he would have felt the light inside of him twisting and turning through his veins and around his bones like a vine that had overrun a building. He guessed that's why hallucinations were so dangerous. You didn't know that they were hallucinations. 

There was a knock on the door. Tyler waited until the person knocked again to approach the door and lift the little slot, which he guessed was what he was supposed to do. It was. Breakfast came in through the opening, passed in by an anonymous hand. Eggs, toast, and a small paper cup of coffee that _nearly_ hit the top of the hole and spilled. 

"Drop the tray out the hole when you're done," the hand said, and Tyler recognized the commanding voice as the female guard's, the one with the blue eyes and the flashes of short blonde hair.

"Okay, thanks," he said, and his voice cracked. Great.

The hatch closed. 

He ate quickly, quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed and balancing the plate on his skinny lap, eating with his hands because they didn't give him a fork, and for good reason. He'd rather stab his own eyes out than be trapped here with fake-Josh and the steel door. How long was he supposed to be in solitary confinement anyways?

He finished his meal and sat up, staring at the shape he had made in the blankets for a long time. He had sat right where he had imagined Josh to be sitting yesterday, and now that the indent was there, he might forget that he himself had made it and think that Josh _had_ been there. Then he laughed at himself. He knew what was and wasn't real. Josh in his cell was not real. Tyler imagining him _was_ real. Josh was dead, so Josh was not here; he never had been and never will.

He smoothed the blankets over anyway.

He quickly deposited his tray out of the hatch. No one was waiting on the other end and it clattered onto the floor. He peered out of the gap, looking left and right for someone, anyone. The hallway his cell was in was barren, silent. The fluorescent lights flickered. There were other doors sealing other rooms, but there was no sign of activity within. There were no guards patrolling the halls, no sound of inmates squabbling and playing cards and listening to radios that Tyler coveted. He didn't like the quiet. It made everything so much louder. A leaking pipe dripped, the small sound amplified by the barrenness of the building.

He wondered if he was the only person on this entire floor.

He pulled away from the hatch and looked at the camera in the corner. It was small and white and tubular, and if Tyler squinted, he could see the round, shiny lens behind the protective glass staring at him like a spider's eye, unblinking, unthinking, unfeeling. He stared back at it for several minutes, wondering if there was anyone on the other side watching him watch them. Probably not.

He unbuttoned the top half of his jumpsuit and tied the sleeves around his waist. His bare arms raised with goosebumps as they were exposed to the dank, unwelcoming air. His white undershirt came off too, because stripping might get him some attention. Not really. He was just breaking out in a nervous sweat and his clothes suddenly felt too tight. 

He paced, cold air caressing his warm skin and making him shiver. It was just like coming to prison for the first time, but worse. He saw no vents in the cell and he wondered if he would run out of air. His breaths deepened the tiniest bit.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

  
**2010 (January)**

Josh didn't find a job the week after that. Or the week after that. Or the week after that. No one was hiring. No one wanted a dishwasher, or a fry cook, or a retail salesperson, or _anyone_. None of his old friends at the market were having much luck either from what he heard through Lena. The rent for January was due next week and the painful possibility that he might go homeless ached like an abscess in the back of his mind.

He called his parents as a last resort. But they couldn't help him. Jordan and Abby were still in high school and needed food and clothes and shoes. They couldn't take care of themselves like he could.

"Josh, honey, it's okay," his mother said to a weeping Josh one night, "Things don't always work out the way we want or need them to. It's not your fault. If you can't find a job, come home. I'm sure you'll find something here."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, wiping his eyes. "I won't give up. I'm sure there's something."

"There's my boy. Always so optimistic."

But bad news became worse news when Tyler lost his job too. He could sense that there was something wrong with Tyler after he came home one evening, about three weeks after Josh got fired. He could feel the shadows curling off Tyler like he was a smoldering shred of paper as he appeared in the building, which was odd, because Tyler's aura was usually buried very, very deep within his psyche. Josh looked in through the peephole in Tyler's and spotted him in an upper corner in the ceiling, nothing but a dense, dark cloud of smoke. Josh looked behind him to make sure no one was around before transforming into a ray of light and squeezing through the hole, pulling himself through and joining Tyler up on the ceiling up. Tyler shrank away for a moment in surprise and fear before he recognized Josh's presence and reached a single tendril out, mingling with him and prickling curiously at his edges. It tickled. 

 _Hi Josh,_ Tyler said.

_Hi Tyler. What's wrong?_

_I got fired._  

Tyler felt... _crunchy_ as he said that. Prickly and stiff and brittle. Bitterly humorous.

 _Holy crap,_  Josh said. Now they were both out of a job. _Are you going to tell your parents?_

Tyler was quiet for a long time.  _I don't know,_  he finally said.

Tyler began to sink, and he pulled Josh with him, drifting slowly down like an old, leaking balloon. They landed gently on the sofa that had been waiting beneath them. They stayed in their elemental forms for a while before they slowly solidified, clouds of light and shadow condensing and clumping together until they were opaque and impermeable, solid weight pressing down on the cushions of the sofa. They turned out to be pressed shoulder to shoulder, knees to their chests like twin fetuses. 

"How are we gonna pay for anything," Tyler said, more of a statement than a question. His spoken voice felt too loud after the whispers of their previous conversation. He stared at the picture hung on the opposite wall with a dead expression. Josh had drawn a picture of a tree and taped it right over the spot that Tyler always stared at when he was worried, the one he was looking at right now. It was poorly done, but it filled up some of the empty space and gave Tyler something to look at.

"I don't know," Josh finally said. "We're just gonna have to tough it out." 

"Some plan," Tyler snorted.

"Think we're gonna end up homeless?"

"Prolly."

"That was rhetorical."

"I know."

Josh just needed one more year until he could graduate with a Bachelor's. Sure, his loan covered that, but housing and food also existed. He was paying for his dorm, food, utilities, clothing, gas, literally everything else out of his own pocket. And he was already having trouble making ends meet when he _did_ have a job. There was just no way he could complete his education and have a chance at getting a decent job if he was homeless and starving _and_ naked. He had no clue about Tyler's financial plans or problems but it was obvious he was in as much trouble as he, if not more, since his parents were adamant that he was incapable of living on his own.

His hands were clammy with cold sweat and his throat felt tight. God, all of this was making him so anxious.

There was only one thing for it.

"Hey, Tyler?" he asked, nudging him.

Tyler looked away from the tree. "Huh?" he asked.

"Wanna go for a drive? Take our mind off this."

"Sure. I'm calling shotgun." 

* * *

 **2017 (January)**  

Beyond bored, Tyler was disoriented. There were no windows or solid schedules to help him keep track of time, and the lights didn't go out at night. At first, he tried to count how many days he's been inside by keeping track of the number of times he's slept, but he was getting more and more lethargic by the day, and his sleep was short, frequent, and fitful. He switched to counting breakfasts. So far, he counted fifteen, though he was sure he's missed a few. He wondered how long he would be stuck here for getting in that fight. In hindsight, he really shouldn't have done that. Still, he didn't think he deserved more than a week or so, but Belle Rêve's faculty said otherwise. 

The blue eyed guard seemed to be assigned to watch him, because it was always her that passed the meals through the door or escorted him to the sanitation block. She was also quite pretty, going by the glimpses she allowed him to catch as she passed him food or lead him to the showers, but Tyler was too listless and scared of her to dwell on that. Still, it would be nice to talk with her, if only because no one else will.  

She gave him his lunch and was about to leave when Tyler quickly set down his tray and called out after her.

"Wait!"

She turned around and returned to a crouch before the slot. "What," she demanded.

"Thank you," he said. "And what's your name?"

She stared at him, probably hoping to scare him into dropping the question, but Tyler refused to back down. He stared right back at her.

"Black," she finally said, and she slammed the hatch shut. The pounding of her boots was audible through the solid door.

"Black," he repeated to himself, and he picked up his tray and ate.

His meals were brought up from the cafeteria, which must be quite some distance from his cell because his soup, which he always remembered being scaldingly overheated, was lukewarm and now Tyler was fully aware of its poor flavor without the heat to disguise it. Still, he ate, sipping the thin broth and using a chunk of a hard roll to sop up whatever was left in the bowl.

He set the tray down on the floor by his bed. He'd give it back when Ms. Black returned. Simply dropping it felt inconsiderate and impetuous. He sat on the bed with his back to the wall, staring at bare cement on the opposite side of the cell. He wished he could cover it up with something, a drawing, maybe, because he felt as if the walls grew eyes and stared at him whenever he turned his back on them. He's taken to huddling in the corners and monitoring the walls to alleviate the feeling. But sometimes the walls hold their ground and stare back. Like they were right now.

It was just plain paranoia, along with the stress of being alone for most of the day, but sometimes, the feeling of being watched would grow into a feeling that someone was there with him in his cell. Like when a young child's parents go out for the night and the child suddenly realizes that they're _alone_ , only the other way around. Tyler just couldn't shake it off. His left hand reached over to his right wrist and he rubbed the little lump inside, a nervous tic he's developed over the weeks on Alcaz. How he wished he could have his powers back now. He could evaporate into a little cloud of darkness and hide under the bed, or in a shadowy corner, or inside the faucet of the sink. He was so exposed here. 

He took his thin blanket and wrapped it around himself until only his head was visible. His bony knees pressed into his skinny shoulders as he peeked out at the tiny world around him. He dozed off with his eyes open, still watching the walls. His conscious and subconscious melded together and he struggled to differentiate between old memories and impressions of his own creation. This was happening more and more often, he noticed. He was never this listless before prison, before solitary confinement. But whatever. He was too tired to keep thinking about this. He let his eyes slide shut.

Before he could fully drift off to sleep, however, the steel door opened.

And in came Josh.

His sudden appearance shocked the sleepiness out of him, which should have made Josh disappear since, obviously, Tyler was only dreaming that he was there. The door was locked, after all.

But he didn't disappear. He approached Tyler and sat down near the head of the bed where Tyler was sitting, casual and easy as pie, the way he used to when he was alive and would sometimes join Tyler in his bed, mumbling something soft and sleepy about nightmares or just because. 

"Go away," Tyler said to him. But his damning words came out little more than a frightened whisper. 

"Tyler, please understand," Josh pleaded.

"Understand _what_ ," Tyler spat, courage growing. He unwrapped himself from his blanket and edged away from Josh, off the bed, cornering himself near the sink and toilet. "You're dead. This isn't real."

He wondered if the surveillance camera up in the corner saw Josh too. 

"Tyler, please, it's been like, what, a month and a half and I still haven't been able to have an actual conversation with you. I _am_ real, I promise. I don't really understand it myself, but I think, therefore I am, y'know?"

Josh reached out an open palm to him as he said that, and the tendons in his bare shoulders rippled and twisted beneath his radiant skin. Tyler remembered them moving just like that when he came out of the shower, towel tied around his waist, skin still soaking wet and glittering from the light of the bathroom. "Just talk with me, okay? You're not crazy, this is just a really, really weird situation," he continued, patting the spot on the mattress next to him. "Please, sit."

"Okay. Sure," Tyler said, voice still edged with doubt.

He slowly approached Josh and sat down next to him. He certainly _felt_ real. Warmth diffused off him and his fingers fumbled and fidgeted over each other in his lap. Tyler stared at him, inspecting every detail he had memorized over the last eight years he's known him. Everything was in its place: the freckles, the tiny acne scars you could only see if you leaned up close, the little dimple right below his bottom lip where he used to have a ring. 

But he had a few extra details that Tyler never remembered. He's never seen the shirt that Josh is wearing, a sleeveless black shirt, nor the hat, a beanie of the same color that concealed all of his hair, which should be pink. The arm closest to Tyler, his left, the one that he always remembered being bare, was decorated with several small, unrecognizable sigils scattered over his pale, freckled flesh. Tyler's eyes trailed upwards to Josh's face, and he spotted another little tattoo under his left eye. Again he felt suspicious.

"I don't know about the symbols either," Josh said, looking earnestly into Tyler's eyes. 

"You promise?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." 

"I guess it's a little late for me to start doubting you after the last time," Tyler said, though he still did.

"You were on enough tranquilizers to knock out an elephant. I'm surprised you even noticed me."

Tyler pulled his legs up onto the bed and crossed them, and Josh scooted over a few inches to give him the room, although there was plenty of space on Tyler's left. Secretly, Tyler appreciated it. This person, this _Josh_ still made him nervous.

"So," Tyler said, "Do you wanna explain now?"

"Yeah. Okay, so on the night I disappeared, I didn't die. Everyone thought I did, but I didn't. Like, I'd guess that dying would feel like nothing? But instead I felt... splintered. It's kind of hard to explain, but imagine if your brain was split up into a million tiny consciousnesses. Does that make any sense?"

Already this story was weird. "Not really," he said. 

"You saw me explode," Josh said.

"Yeah, you cut me up when that happened.

Josh winced. "Yeah, sorry about that. I felt that too. But yeah. I blew apart into a bunch of bits, and for a while I was stuck in the house like that. But eventually, some of the pieces of me started pulling themselves back together like magnets or something. That took a few days. I could only speak to you then, that was when you first came to Alcaz, right?"

Tyler remembered the vomiting and the indistinct voice behind him. "Yeah, I heard you," he said.

"Yeah. And then I didn't have enough energy to keep talking and that's why I disappeared. That's why I never stick around, actually, especially down here. There's no sun and I need some sort of energy source."

"Does that mean you're gonna disappear on me any second now?"

Josh shook his head. "No, I don't think. I'm actually feeding off of you right now."

"I hope I taste good," Tyler cracked.

Josh smiled a little, but didn't say anything. 

"Why isn't the rest of you coming together?" Tyler asked.

"I'm not sure-- I think they're stuck in the walls of the house, or maybe they need more energy to start moving, I don't know. I think your energy would be enough to get them moving, since you have powers and stuff, but you're kinda... stuck here."

Tyler quirked his mouth. "Thanks for reminding me. I actually don't have my powers anymore. No one does."

Josh was dumbstruck. "What?"

Tyler showed him his wrist and pointed at the little microchip embedded in the flesh. The skin that covered it was growing red from all the time he's spent picking at it, making the implant all the more obvious.

"There's an electric current or something inside it that blocks my powers. I'm not sure how it works, but they put that in everyone here," Tyler said. "It feels so weird-- it, like, dulls my senses. Like a blindfold or something."

Josh placed a finger over it, running it over the bump slowly, intimately, observing his wrist in wonder. It was comforting but unnerving in a way Tyler couldn't explain. He pulled his arm away.

"Anyways, enough about my stupid chip. I've got a real question: how come only I can see you? And how do you know where I am?"

Josh was lost in thought for several minutes, worrying his cheek between his teeth. "Wait," he began, "Remember what you said about the pieces of me that cut you?"

"Yes," Tyler said, and now he could see where this conversation is going. 

Josh reached to touch the tiny little scar a shard had left on Tyler's left cheekbone. Heat bloomed in the spot and Tyler could feel something moving, pushing, trying to escape his skin and join the warm pad of Josh's thumb.

"I can feel it," Tyler said.

"It's not coming out," Josh said, and he pressed a little harder and the warm shard suddenly felt like broken glass. Tyler hissed in pain and pulled away.

They were quiet for a moment. The pipes gurgled and the ocean roared somewhere in the distance. Tyler's mind was a muddle of Josh and memories and impossible scenarios.

"I'm still not sure if I believe you," Tyler said, breaking the silence. "Maybe I do. I don't know."

Josh stared at his feet, nodding. "It's okay. Stuff like this shouldn't be possible. I wouldn't expect you to believe me at all."

He got up off the bed and picked up Tyler's tray.

"Where are you going?" Tyler asked.

"I need to go back to try and figure everything out, see if it's possible to get my body back and stuff," Josh said, heading for the door. Panic welled up in Tyler's chest. He still wasn't sure if any of this was real, but he had been craving conversation for so long now that he found himself desperately clinging to anyone who was willing to talk with him, whether that was Ms. Black or the security camera or Josh.

"Wait!" he said, getting up and putting a hand on Josh's shoulder. Josh turned around and regarded Tyler with a sad look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Tyler. But I can't stay for much longer anyways. There's no light down here-- no _real_ light, at least. And your energy isn't enough, I'll dissolve in a few minutes anyway, I can feel it. I just--"

"Don't be sorry, Josh," Tyler said, deciding to play along with blind faith, "it's fine. I get it, whatever 'it' is. Anyways, it's creepy when you just disappear."

Josh nodded. He balanced the empty tray on the sink and reached to hug him. Tyler accepted. Josh was warm and his grip was tight as his fingers bunched in the grungy fabric of Tyler's garbs.

"Bye, Tyler. I'll see you soon," he said, and Tyler could feel his chest vibrate as he spoke.

"Bye, Josh."

Tyler realized that it had been months since he last said that. 

Josh pulled away and took the tray and again Tyler's eyes must be deceiving him because the cell door unlocked for him and swung open without a sound. Josh slipped out. It closed with a soft _click_. He heard Josh set his tray onto the ground. He heard him walk away, his footsteps growing faint until they echoed into oblivion.

Tyler was alone. The door was staring at him. He approached it and reached for the handle, the feeling of the cold metal unable to break him from his daze. He turned it, and found his hand stopped by the soft _click_ of the lock. 

* * *

Jenna made her way back to the solitary cells to pick up the trays some twenty-five minutes after lunch was served. At the back of her mind she wondered why it was the guards' duty to pick up after the inmates. Come to think of it, she's never seen a janitor at work in the last six years she's worked at Belle Rêve. 

Her thoughts went south as she picked up the twenty-so trays, dropped carelessly onto the ground through the hatches. _Inefficient, sloppy, roughly managed, fuckfuckfuck._

She came to cell 21. The tray was on the ground like the others, but it was set right side up, the paper cup that came with the meal placed on top of the tray as if an outside hand had set it upright. There was no way a prisoner reaching from the inside could reach the tray once it was on the ground, and even if they could, none of them would care enough to do it anyway. 

How strange. 

She shrugged and collected the tray, unaware of the man behind the door, his eyes wild, breath shallow and shaking, his face streaming with frantic tears as he desperately tried to turn the knob again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest chapter yet, clocking in at 4153 words. Fuck yes


	6. Desperate, If Nothing Else

**2010 (February)**

They were homeless. It was as simple as that. They couldn't pay their rent anytime soon which got them kicked out of their dorm. In the middle of February. 

It was so fucking _cold_. Tyler's dinky little sedan could only insulate so much heat, and even sleeping on top of each other in the backseat, wrapped in what must have been thousands of blankets didn't help. Frost crept up the windows every night and didn't melt until three in the afternoon.

To make matters worse, neither of them could come home. Josh couldn't return because his father broke a foot after slipping on the ice and they had to foot (ha ha _ha_ ) the entire bill. But they couldn't afford to pay it since his father was out of work and they weren't qualified for insurance. Tyler couldn't return for a reason he only mumbled before pulling his jacket tighter around his body and opening his laptop as they sat in Tyler's car in the parking lot of their local McDonald's leeching off the free WiFi. Tyler sat in the passenger's, his books and papers and wires spread over the main console and creeping halfway over the driver's seat. Josh was curled up in the back, reading an assigned text as he lay on his side. The arm he was laying on top of was losing circulation and falling asleep.

"Josh?" Tyler asked as he typed.

Josh looked up from his book. "Yeah?"

"This sucks."

He snorted. "It does."

Tyler punched in a few more lines of code, not looking away from his screen as he confessed. "I should tell you why I don't wanna go home."

Josh stared at him, searching for any sign of hidden reluctance in his face. "You don't have to if you don't want to. It's fine."

"No, no, it's not even that bad anyways. I think I'm just in a bad mood," he said, backspacing.

"I think it's perfectly appropriate for our situation."

"I guess. Anyways, I've complained about my parents before."

"They didn't like your powers," Josh supplied.

"Yeah. But they didn't get me chipped. They just kept me away from everyone else, which I hated, because I was always their dirty little secret, you know? I hardly know my own siblings because they basically hid me in my own house. I'm still mad about the way they raised me. I don't know if I'm ready to forgive them. Especially since they think I can't take care of myself. That's their own fault for not letting me go out and make some friends."

Josh nodded. "That's okay. Your parents aren't going anywhere. Forgive them when you're ready."

"Yeah," Tyler said. "Easier said than done, though."

"You're right abut that."

Tyler reached over to the main console and turned on the heater. "It's getting chilly in here," he said.

* * *

**(February)**

Tyler sold his car, the beige sedan his father gave him, and bought an old van with the money. Josh helped take out the back four seats and replaced it with his own mattress (his fit better) and Tyler's sheets (his were softer). It was warmer in that van. Especially since Tyler slept right next to him. That guy was a furnace.

They coped with not having a home. They sneaked into the campus's gym at night to shower. They would spend their spare time in the library. They lied to their parents and said they were doing just fine. 

But they didn't have money. Or anything else.

Josh swallowed some of his dignity and tried his hand at panhandling on one of the benches in the campus's courtyard. A dollar here, a handful of change there, a 'good luck' muttered every few hands. He collected a decent amount after a few hours. He went to the local discount store with his earnings and bought whatever food he could afford. The shopkeeper frowned at him when he dropped his large pile of change on the counter. 

Tyler stared at him from the passenger's seat when he dumped the bag full of cheap junk food and bruised fruit on the dashboard of the van. 

"Where'd you get that?" he asked. 

"The store," Josh said.

"Well, yeah, duh-- I meant, where did you get the money?"

"I asked around for spare change. I think I did pretty well. I got like, fifteen bucks in two hours."

For some reason, Tyler's jaw tightened. 

"Josh--" he began.

Josh panicked and tried to defuse Tyler before he was even sure if he would explode. "Hey, we're homeless. We don't have jobs. How else are we gonna get money? Don't get mad, please."

Tyler sighed, resigned. So he wasn't mad. "This isn't about money, Josh, this is about dignity," he said. "I-- I don't want us to beg. No matter how bad it gets."

Now Josh was the one who was irate. "Needing help isn't shameful, Tyler," he said.

"I know it's not!" Tyler yelped, raising his hands in self-defense, "But having to beg for it is. I mean, there's nothing else we can do right now, and I'm _grateful_ , Josh, but I just wish it didn't have to be this way."

They both deflated a little after Tyler finished. Josh watched as Tyler sighed and rubbed his face with both hands, fingers pushing up his glasses. 

"I'm sorry for getting like that that, man. It's just-- stress," Tyler said. 

Josh nodded. "Yeah, I get it. It's no problem. I'm sorry too."

Tyler looked at him. "For what?" 

"For accusing you."

"I accused you first. You've been nothing but helpful."

"Alright, fine. I don't need to say sorry. But I do need to say that I forgive you."

Tyler smiled at the ground. He reached over the dashboard and blindly grabbed a bag of chips, opening it and popping one in his mouth. Still looking at the ground, he held the bag out to Josh. Josh took a chip.

"We'll figure something out," he said to Tyler.

* * *

**(March)**

Spring was coming. The nights were no longer as cold as they had grown accustomed to and frost didn't form on the windows. February's grey, slushy, half-melted snow turned into cold, watery mud puddles ringed with fresh, little green plants. Josh was careful not to step on those seedlings as he walked to and from his classes and various odd jobs.

They continued to cope. They still hadn't found any answers. No one wanted to hear Tyler sing in the subway. It was too late to shovel off of driveways, and still too early for there to be any grass to mow. Food banks were filled with families with children who needed the food more than they. Tyler would look online for ways to make money, he sold everything he didn't need, and Josh would panhandle when Tyler was too exhausted from his work to notice that Josh's pockets were heavy with donated change. 

Sometimes they didn't have food. Or gas. Or both. Those were bad times. Hunger gnawed at his insides and made Josh's eyes and mind lose focus as he tried to listen to his lectures, and afterwards, he would read the same three lines over and over again when looking over his books. Tyler told him he looked too pale. Tyler wasn't looking very well either. He was as listless as Josh, and his clothes grew baggy and his smooth face turned into a red smear of acne as the stress piled on. They found that their abilities were weakened, too. Josh barely had the strength to glow bright enough for he and Tyler to work on their assignments after the sun set.

Despite all this, they promised not to break. Bottles of aspirin were never slipped up jacket sleeves and small morsels of food were never tucked into yawning pockets whenever they visited the grocery store. But it was very tempting to do so.

Tyler broke first. It was an early Tuesday morning, and Tyler and Josh were at the local Starbucks, Tyler on his computer and Josh reviewing his essay. The smell of roasting coffee and baking pastries was absolutely maddening, more so when they checked their pockets and found that they had no money at all. Josh's stomach was turning itself inside out from hunger. He hasn't eaten in the last thirty-eight hours (yes, he counted the time) and he could barely lift his pen. Tyler's fingers were sluggish as they tapped the keyboard, inputting code that was almost certainly full of errors that he overlooked in his starved daze. 

A man walked into the shop. He wore an expensive-looking suit, carried a leather suitcase, and when he completed his order (a grande soy cafe vanilla frappucino, double shot with extra caramel drizzle), he pulled a brand-new crocodile leather wallet out of his front pocket. Everything about him showed off the money no one else had. Josh looked back at Tyler and saw his eyes shift slowly to the side to subtly eye the man, and Josh sensed the shadows inside Tyler try to lunge forward and writhe as they surged against his ribcage, _hungry_. Tyler looked back at Josh, and there was the strangest glint in his eye behind his glasses.

"Whatever it is you're thinking, _no!_ " he whispered to Tyler. 

Tyler bit the inside of his cheek, and watched the man disappear into the bathroom while he waited for his coffee. He looked back at Josh before abruptly standing up, pushing his chair back in and closing his laptop before walking over to the bathroom, as casual as you please. Josh felt the beginnings of a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as he watched Tyler approach the bathroom. He looked around the cafe. There were people, people who would stare and question if Josh suddenly dragged Tyler away from the bathroom and into the old van in the parking lot. Tyler entered the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him. Fuck.

The bathroom was quiet for a moment before he heard a loud crash and a scream from behind the closed door. Tyler suddenly burst out from the bathroom, knocking several people over as he raced through the cafe, the man's cards fluttering to the ground as he tossed them out of the wallet and sprinted out the door, too fast for anyone to react before he disappeared around a corner. Josh quickly stood up, notebooks and pens dropping to the floor as he watched the man that Tyler had just mugged stumble out of the bathroom, stumbling down onto the ground to pick up his credit card and driver's license before racing outside to try and locate Tyler. But he was long gone. He pulled out his phone and called the police. Josh could hear him yelling through the glass of the front of the building. Customers and employees gathered behind the door to stare at the man, his face turning beet red as he described what had happened.

Holy shit.

He tuned it out and began to gather his and Tyler's things. He needed to leave before someone asked him about Tyler, who had been sitting with Josh for over an hour before he stole that wallet. He also needed to find Tyler. 

Josh blended in with the rest of the customers who decided to leave. No one asked him any questions. _Good_ , he thought as he made his way to the van and dumped his belongings into the passenger's seat. Tyler's computer fell from the seat and onto the floorboard as he backed out of the lot, ominously cracking on impact. Josh was too mad at Tyler to care.

Josh drove aimlessly around town, painfully aware of all the gas he was wasting looking for Tyler. Hopefully there was enough in that stupid wallet to refill it. Eventually he gave up and parked against a curb in an unfamiliar neighborhood. He pulled out his phone and texted Tyler.

 

 _dude where are you_  
Sent by Josh at 7:53

 

He tried not to grip the steering wheel too hard as he waited for a reply. He turned on the radio and listened while he waited. Tyler replied in the middle of Bon Jovi.

 

_oh hey josh_

_i'm downtown. looking for a good place to eat. come over i'm on 8th and magnolia we'll have lunch together._  
Sent by Tyler at 8:05

 

Josh's knuckles turned white at Tyler's nonchalant words. 

 

 _no_.  
Sent by Josh at 8:06

 

 _?_  
Sent by Tyler at 8:06

 

Jesus Christ. 

 

 _don't act like you don't know. why did you take that wallet?_  
Sent by Josh at 8:06

 

 _don't act like you don't know. we haven't eaten in two days_  
Sent by Tyler at 8:07

 

Josh's stomach growled at that. He willfully ignored it; just because he was hungry didn't mean Tyler was right. 

 

 _still_  
Sent by Josh at 8:07

 

 _still? what else could we do?_  
Sent by Tyler at 8:07

 

 _you're the one who got mad at me for asking for change. you can't lecture me about morals if you're gonna rob people_  
Sent by Josh at 8:08

 

_you're right. sorry about that._

_but you're not mad about the rest of it right?_  
Sent by Tyler at 8:08

 

Josh sighed and leaned his head against the cold window. His stomach was fully awake now that someone was offering it food. He cursed his weakness and tried not to seem too desperate. 

 

_of course i am but if i'm going to be honest, i'm too hungry to care. no one saw your face right?_

_because if they did we're screwed_  
Sent by Josh at 8:08

 

 _i don't think so. i had my hood up and my glasses on and i took them off afterwards. i don't stand out that much anyways and it's crowded where i am right now._  
Sent by Tyler at 8:09

 

 _still you have to be careful. i'm not sure if eating out is a good idea for now._  
Sent by Josh at 8:09

 

_don't worry josh. it's columbus. stuff like this happens all the time. i'd be surprised if the police even bother to look around to find me. and no one will check those fancy restaurants. obviously i'd be buying a shit ton of drugs first thing not going to like benihana's or red lobster or something._

_come on josh let's go to the buffet place on bonnie brae_

_it's all you can eat. they have garlic bread too. i can seriously smell it from the street it's insane._  
Sent by Tyler at 8:10

 

Josh could feel his stomach being pulled east. It was getting harder and harder to resist indulging his appetite.

 

 _garlic bread? you're really twisting my arm here dude_  
Sent by Josh at 8:10

 

The promise of a hot meal and the comforting knowledge that it was free was too much for Josh to resist.

 

 _alright fine i'll go_  
Sent by Josh at 8:11

 

 _get there before i go in and eat everything first._  
Sent by Tyler at 8:11

 

* * *

**2017 (February)**

He was out of solitary a few days later. His sudden return felt like being thrown into ice-cold water-- overwhelming and paralyzing. The crowded cafeteria suffocated like it never had before. Even the spacious rec yard felt cramped. He was getting worse, he knew. His fingernails were chewed into nothing but bloody stumps and his pacing never stopped. Josh hadn't appeared in a while-- Tyler couldn't decide whether that was bad or not.

Tyler stood alone in the rec yard, his nose barely an inch away from the electrified fence as he looked out at the ocean. It was a cold, overcast afternoon that promised rain, the heavy clouds painting the sea the same dreary grey as everything else on the island. The frothy waves crashed against the brown-black boulders of the island's beach and sprayed Tyler with a cold, fine mist. Tiny beads of water collected on his eyelashes and sparkled whenever they were caught the roving light in the watchtower installed on the roof of the prison complex. Every few seconds the light would cut through the fog and sweep over him, and Tyler would see his shadow cast upon the ocean far below.

His shadow. He still wasn't used to the absence of his powers. There was an emptiness gnawing on his insides. Like hunger and blindness made into one. He'd bump into people in the cafeteria and he'd freeze, expecting himself to go up in smoke, but nothing would happen and he'd get a shove and an odd look. Or when the lights went out at night. He couldn't sense the edge of his bed or where the cockroach scuttling on the wall ended up. The fear that he would trip over or hurt himself on something constantly gnawed at his mind whenever he woke up in the middle of the night. He didn't know how everyone else dealt with it, stumbling around so blindly in the dark.

His tongue worked over a canker-sore on the inside of his cheek. He pinched it between his molars, feeling the blister burst between his teeth and flooding his tongue with the taste of blood. He continues to chew at the torn flesh, relishing in the sharp pain as he tugged at the loose strips of skin. It kept bleeding. _I need to stop_ , he thought.

He let his mouth bleed and didn't bother turning around when the sounds of a fight broke out behind him.

* * *

**(February)**

Josh came to him with some news one day in the cafeteria. Tyler was halfway through a sour orange when he appeared behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Tyler," he said, looking around the cramped, noisy room. "You got a seat for me?" 

"Sorry, no," Tyler said, craning his neck to look at him. "If one more person sits down I'll be crushed flat."

"Alright." Josh sucked in his cheeks before releasing them with a _pop!_ "Anyways, I've got news."

Tyler set down the remains of his orange. "What's going on?"

"We've got a copycat."

"A what?"

"Someone's been picking up where we left off. Stealing and giving away. They made off with three million dollars from the CEO of Susan G. Komen two days ago. Apparently they hacked into her personal computer and threatened to release a shit ton of private files. They're calling themself 'Ursa'."

"Ursa?"

"'Bear.'"

"Wow. So is that good or bad?"

"Not sure. They haven't released a statement. No video, no note, nothing."

"Do they have any powers? How did they do it?"

"Hey, Joseph, who're you talking to?" 

Tyler turned back to the table to see a platinum blonde woman grinning at him from the left end of the bench. She, along with everyone else sitting at the table, was silent as they stared at him. _Oh shit._

He looked at Josh. All he got was a shocked face mirroring his.

"Voices, huh?" the woman continued, raising a brow.

Tyler's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. She smirked.

"Whatever. Tell your voices mine said hi."

She grinned at him with large teeth before taking a ferocious bite out of her chicken. Tyler shuddered and turned back to Josh.

"They can't see me. Act like I'm not here. I'll keep talking," he said.

Tyler turned away from him and ate his meal, not looking at Josh as he rattled off what he knew about this Ursa and the rest of the outside world. He ate quickly, hoping to leave early to speak privately with Josh. Josh follows Tyler the whole way back, going silent when he sees how Tyler's hands are held tight against his sides as he was led back to his cell. Josh slips into the cell just as it closes, and he joins Tyler on the bed. Tyler heaved a sigh and laid down, head resting on Josh's lap. He stared at the wall as Josh's hands find their way to his shaved scalp and rub the short, dark bristles.

"This is such a mess," Tyler says, smiling tragically at the sudden burst of helplessness that always attacked him during quiet moments like these. 

"It is. Do you think this is it? The end?"

"What, like it's possible for me to escape?"

"It is. We've done some crazy shit before. This is just the first time we've got caught for it."

"That's true. Still, this place is unbreakable. And you're unfixable."

"Miracles can happen." 

Josh then disappeared from beneath him. Tyler's head collapsed softly onto the mattress. It was cold where Josh had sat, like he was never there at all. 

Ms. Black came by and stopped in front of Tyler's cell. He heard the soft _swish swish_ of her navy blue uniform as she moved, the clinking of her keys smacking between her flashlight and TASER.

"You're hearing voices?" she asked. 

Tyler looked at her. She seemed unimpressed and disinterested, like she always was. 

"Who came up with that idea?" he asked.

"Inmate Quinzel. And pretty much everyone who's seen you during your time here. You cause an awful lot of trouble, you know."

He couldn't deny that.

"Sorry," he said.  

She snorted, but she sounded more tired than irate. "Apologies never fixed anything. Just don't start shit. I'm overworked enough as it is."

He could tell. She wore no makeup to hide the sunken, dark circles beneath her eyes. Tyler could easily mistake her for a fellow prisoner if her uniform had been orange. He felt a pang of pity for her, which felt odd since he was the one behind bars. She was free-- or at least freer than he.

"If you're gonna talk to your dead boyfriend-slash-partner-in-crime or whatever the hell you guys were, just do it in private so they don't bug you or me about it."

There were about eighty-seven different things about that sentence that Tyler didn't want to talk about.

"How long have you been working here, Black?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Six years."

She said it like she counted every day.

"What did you do before?"

"Nothing, really. I boxed for a few years, if that counts."

Tyler had always been aware of how tight her sleeves had fit around her arms and the indomitable strength with which she wrestled unruly inmates to the ground both for duty and for sport. He's seen prisoners try and make a run for it, dashing down the halls and past Tyler's cell, and Jenna was always the first guard there, tackling and subduing them like something feral. At times she seemed stronger than what was humanly possible, when she slung an unconscious woman weighing about a buck-sixty over her shoulder and back into her cell like she was an empty backpack. At first, he suspected that she had abilities of her own-- but then he remembered that she worked for the government. The telltale lump below the ear of a chipped metahuman was absent. 

"Hey. Noodle. Wake up. I'm still talking," Guard Black said.

"Huh?" he said, eyes snapping back to focus.

"Was there a turning point? What made you do all this shit and get stuck here?"

"Uh," he said. He wasn't sure how honest he should be with Black. She might be asking because she actually cared, but that didn't seem likely. She was most likely just seeing if he needed to go to the psychiatric ward. But he didn't care too much. His cell, solitary confinement, the hospital wing, it was all the same. He spoke.

"Me and Josh were hungry. And we started stealing. And then we had some friends who needed things too and we stole for them too. It just grew from there." 

"Didn't expect to get caught up in something so big, huh?"

"No."

"But you did."

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Tyler would normally shrink back, but for once, her irritation didn't seem to be directed at him. 

"Just remember that it's not real," she said. "None of it is."

She stood up straight, adjusted her uniform, and started to walk away.

"Wait!" he called after her, "What do you mean?! Come back!"

"It's seven-thirty, dude. The boxing championships are playing. I won't miss it for anything," she said, not looking over her shoulder.  

Tyler stood up and rushed to the bars of his door, but she ignored him and kept walking. 

_Not real? Who? Her? Josh? Me?_

The metal bars were warm in places where Black had leaned. His fingers loosely curled around the rusty bars as he hung his head and mirrored her form when she had talked to him; one hip cocked, head resting on the hard metal door.

Tyler still couldn't shake what she said from his mind. There were seven billion people on Earth, and only Tyler could see Josh. Quinzel and Black and all the others at Alcaz just thought he was nuts. He's always struggled with accepting Josh's existence, but the fact that no one else even tried to take his unique situation in stride didn't help his case at all. 

He went over to the sink to wash his face of the cold sweat that had collected on his brow. All this thinking was giving him a headache. He braced his hands on the edges of the sink and stared into the white ceramic bowl. The enamel was dull and his reflection was nothing but a hazy blob. That's what his thoughts felt like, he noted. 

Josh came back.

"Hey, Tyler, I'm back, you okay?"

Tyler looked up in surprise and saw Josh in the mirror above the sink. He walked across the cell to lay a warm hand on his shoulder, and all of Tyler's doubt slipped away. He _was_ real. Josh gave him a gentle squeeze and Tyler saw Josh wince when he felt how sharp and bony he had become.

"They're not feeding you well here, are they?" he asked.

"No," Tyler said, shaking his head. "But we've been hungrier before."

"We have," Josh said, dropping his hand. It smacked against his thigh.

"Josh," Tyler whispered.

"Hm?"

"I wanna get out of here," Tyler said, looking at Josh through the glass.

"I want to get you out of here, too," Josh mumbled in reply, and he brought his arms up to embrace him, entwining himself around his torso, and Tyler was overwhelmed with warmth and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Josh," Tyler said, looking down at the two arms wrapped around his skinny frame.

"Why?" he asked.

"I keep making this about me. It's always you comforting me when you're the one who went through so much more."

Tyler turned around to face Josh, still enveloped in his arms. He wiggled his own arms free from Josh's grip and brought them up to Josh's face, cupping his narrow jaw and stroking the light stubble that lined his cheeks with his thumbs. Tyler felt the muscles in Josh's face twist as he smiled.

"It's not a competition, Tyler," he said, "Don't worry about me."

But even then, Tyler's fingers caught warm tears.  

" _Goddammit_ ," Josh wept, and he captured Tyler's mouth with his.

It felt like it always did. The warmth, the soft lips, the hands that roamed over his sides and neck and back and clung to him desperately. Tyler's eyes slid shut as he kissed Josh. He missed this, he really did. He's happy to have it back, even if it's not really _it_. Wetness meets his face and creeps into his mouth as he tastes Josh's tears. He distracts himself by softly biting Josh's soft lower lip, making him sigh gently through his nose and part his lips a little farther. Their tongues brush and it's wet and warm and now Josh is pulling away, kissing down his jaw and reaching his neck, cheeks wet, nipping and sucking at the soft skin and Tyler wonders if anyone will be able to see the hickies he's making as heat flushes through his body and makes his knees weak.

Josh's mouth wandered to the spot right below his ear and he rolled the flesh between his teeth. Tyler shook as he made a small, pleased sound deep in his chest. He leaned back a little, lower back pressing uncomfortably against the edge of the sink as Josh continues assaulting his neck, fumbling with the high collar of Tyler's jumpsuit as he tried to expose more skin. The small, white buttons eventually popped free and Josh swooped for his collarbones when Tyler stopped him by his grabbing his hair. Josh bit his lip and shuddered, eyelids fluttering as his head was pulled back to expose his own throat

"I can't let you do everything, Josh," Tyler said into his ear.

"Sure, sure, yeah," Josh breathed, still reeling from having his hair pulled.

Tyler nipped and sucked at his neck, tracing the tendons stretched tight beneath his skin with his soft tongue and sharp teeth as Josh's arms wrapped around his midsection amd he leaned his weight on Tyler, pressing hm harder against the cold rim of the sink.  

Tyler pulled back to look at Josh. "Hey, you know, we-- we could-- if you wanted?" he stammered out.

In truth, they couldn't. Not really. He knew that if someone looked at his camera feed, all they'd see is him jacking off and talking to himself like some pervert.

But it felt real enough to make it easy to pretend. Josh's body was hot and solid and his erection demanded attention as it poked against his thigh.

"Yes, please," Josh said, and that sealed the deal. Tyler kissed him hard and grabbed him, dragging him across the cell and down to his bed. The metal frame groaned as they collapsed on top of his bunk.

Tyler wrapped his leg around Josh's waist, his thigh settling in the small dip between his ribcage and his hips that Tyler loved. He could feel his cock pressing against his and he ground against him, and their lips break apart as they're both lost to the sensation. Tyler hasn't taken any time for himself since he'd arrived several months ago and it showed from the way his stomach felt coiled tight with premature pleasure. It seemed to be the same for Josh when Tyler suddenly unbuttoned his jeans and curled his fingers around his hard, leaking cock.

A loud, shaky moan slipped halfway out of Josh's mouth before he bit his lower lip to silence himself. Tyler was disappointed. He leaned over to the soft shell of Josh's ear.

"Hey, Josh, it's okay. Only I can hear you."

He bit the soft skin and heard Josh squeak, which turned into a helpless moan when the pad of Tyler's thumb rubs against the hot, silky underside of his dick. His hips rock needily into Tyler's hand and Tyler didn't waste time teasing him. His fingers wrapped tighter around the curve of Josh's dick as he worked his wrist, his other hand idly cupping Josh's cheek as he watched him. His heel pressed tighter against the small of Josh's back and kept him close and trapped him within the confines of his body, as if he were hiding him from the rest of the world that would steal him away. His cock ached and throbbed as he took all of Josh in, from his flushed cheeks, to his trembling body, to his hands that roamed up and down Tyler's sides like they didn't know where to settle.

Tyler listened to him huff and whine into the cold air between their faces, smiling at the way Josh stared up at him, holding his gaze with wide, watering eyes as Tyler quickened his pace. His precum leaked from his tip and smeared over his length, easing the quick, dry movements of Tyler's hand as he stroked him. Small, slick sounds fill the cell, punctuated by Josh's high, throaty keens. Tyler squeezed up and down Josh's engorged dick and watched through half-lidded eyes as he mewled and pressed his thighs together.

It crescendos all too soon when Josh squirms and clumsily thrusts up into Tyler's hand, eyes squeezed shut as his mouth stretches open round and releases a rough, obscene moan as his cum spurts from his slit, spilling over Tyler's knuckles and dripping messily onto the sheets. Tyler works him through it, his sticky cum spreading over his overstimulated dick. He only stops when Josh begs him to, hips helplessly twitching bsck and forth as errant, leftover tears rush forth and run sideways down his face. 

Tyler brought his hand back up to his face, thin strings of cum webbing between his fingers as he slowly licks it off, tasting pearlescent bitterness and relishing the way Josh watched him in awe.

His dick was becoming more uncomfortable the longer he neglected it, and he palmed at it for a few seconds before Josh suddenly remembered to return the favor. He got up and scooted a few inches, settling between Tyler's legs. He reached up to unbutton Tyler's jumpsuit all the way down to his waist, and there he reaches between the split in the fabric and pulled out his dick. Tyler shuddered as it was suddenly exposed to the cold air and Josh's soft grip.

Josh didn't break eye contact as his lips parted and surrounded his cock in the wet, soft heat of his mouth. Tyler's vision went white for a moment as his back arched clear off the mattress.  

Unlike Josh, Tyler has to keep quiet, and he tightly clamps his hand over his mouth to silence himself as Josh hollows his cheeks and slides his velvety tongue up and down. Tyler couldn't keep from bucking up into his mouth when Josh swallows him all the way down and makes him gag and splutter. He whispered a 'sorry' as his eyes water. Josh weighs his forearm across Tyler's hips to keep him still. His sharp, perfect teeth scrape over his dick and it took all the strength Tyler had to hold back his moans. 

He comes before he even realizes it, ears ringing, vision flooded as a blissful, aching heat overcame him. He couldn't feel his back pressing against the mattress or Josh's presence between his legs.

When he returned to his senses, he found himself alone on the bed, a hand around himself. Confused, he felt around the bunk for any sign of his lost friend. The spot on the bed where Josh had lay was cold like he had never been there. He swallowed. He hated how he just disappeared like that. He sat up to clean off and readjust his clothes. Maybe he could just forget about this last bit about Josh disappearing into thin air and pretend that it really was him.

The air was cold and the sweat that had covered him in a light sheen felt like a layer of ice over his skin. He washed his face, fingers tracing over the red circles and lines Josh's mouth had left on him. Was he just imagining those marks? He returned to his bed and slipped under the covers, watching the other inmates as sleepiness slowly weighted his eyelids.

A prisoner a few doors away was whistling a tune Tyler didn't recognize. The woman in the cell directly across from him was asleep. The man housed to the left of her was crying next to the toilet, curled into a miserable ball and muttering apologies to his father, fingers knotted in his curly hair. Tyler wondered if he himself looked like that to everyone else.

A guard walked by and banged on the crying man's cell door with his flashlight. The man inside darted upright in alarm, and Tyler could see how red his eyes were even from a distance.

"Pipe down in there. Your pop's not here and he never will be. It's been twelve years. Get that through your thick skull."

He walked away, and the man in the cell was staring at him, tears still streaming furiously down his face. The woman snored. The whistler changed their tune to Bohemian Rhapsody. The man's eyes were impossibly wide, almost popping out of his skull, desperately pleading an unknown question.

Tyler fell asleep.    

* * *

 **(March)**  

Weeks passed. Tyler noticed his clothes getting looser. His fingers overlapped when he wrapped them around his wrists, and the tendons inside were much more visible. Rain poured almost constantly. It was too wet and stormy to go to the rec yard. The indoor facility was humid and smelly and crowded. The pink and blue woman and the crying man seemed to shadow him constantly, and he retreated to the quietest corner he could find in the large room. 

A storm was coming. He could tell from the way the walls were damp with moisture, even this deep within the recesses of the building where Tyler was kept. He could still hear the sound of the ocean roaring far off in the distance, and before, he'd go out to the edge of the rec yard and stare past the fence at the violent waves that hurled themselves against the brown-black rocks at the bottom of the cliffs, heralding the arrival of the rain that would eventually come and douse the already waterlogged island.

Tyler was awake at two thirty-seven AM. He knew the time because he had counted every second. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the impenetrable darkness, eyes focused on nothing. It had been several hours since the lights went out and everyone had been ordered to sleep, but he still wasn't tired. He didn't know why. Maybe he was waiting for something.

That something arrived at two forty-five. A small speck of light suddenly appeared to him, first the size of a firefly, then a Christmas light, growing larger and brighter until Tyler was blinded. Josh was here. Tyler's mouth split into a smile, chapped, weakened skin stretched tight as he grinned. But something was wrong. Josh's eyes were wild and his brow was shining with sweat. For the first time since Josh's visits began, he seemed shaken.

"Tyler," he said, voice shaking.

"Josh?" Tyler asked, "What's wrong?"

"They're gonna demolish the house."

"What?!"

"You heard me. They fenced off the place a while back, but today they posted a sign on the door and they're gonna destroy it in like, two weeks. You _have_ to help me, _please_."

Tyler blinked.

"Tyler?"

Tyler blinked.

"Tyler?"

" _Fuck!_ " he finally spat, the curse feeling wonderfully bitter on his tongue. "Fuck. What can I do? I mean, I'm in jail, Josh. I don't know if I can do anything from here."

Josh rubbed his face with his hands, sighing. "Shit, you're right, Tyler. I-- I just don't know what to do. You're the only person I can talk to."

Tyler raised his arms in protest. "No, no, Josh, I'm not upset you told me! Hell, I'm so glad you did, but I'm just--"

"Lights went out two hours ago, Joseph, keep it down!" Black shouted from the end of the hall. Tyler flinched and turned guiltily towards the source of the sound, even though neither he or Black could see each other.

They were both tense and quiet. Tyler spoke first.

"I'm gonna help you, Josh. I promise. I'm gonna get out and I'm gonna find you and put you back together. I will. I swear to God I will."

Josh looked at him with watery, grateful eyes. "Tyler, I--"

"I promise, okay?" he interrupted, not wanting to give Josh the time to doubt. 

Josh nodded, and Tyler watched as glowing tears slipped down Josh's face and dripped onto the ground, splattering into little dots of light on the filthy cement floor. He began to fade away, weakened by the night, and he grabbed Tyler's hand as he slowly evaporated. Tyler tried to hide the way his own hands shook. 

"Tyler. Thank you," Josh said, bringing the hand up to Tyler's face as he disappeared.

He was left alone in the dark with a promise he couldn't keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jenna is a big buff cheeto puff.
> 
> Hey sorry for not updating again it's been a busy last few weeks and school started so that's piling on the stress. I'll probably be able to get more writing done once I go back to school, actually, since it ups my productivity. Sorry for taking so long! Hopefully the smut made up for it lol.
> 
> This chapter is 6.7k words long. That's about 15 pages.


	7. Into the Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To pursue monsters, we must understand them. We must venture into their minds. But in doing so, we risk letting them venture into ours.
> 
> Slight violence/blood warning in this chapter, it's nothing too descriptive though.

**2010 (March)**

The money from the wallet disappeared quickly, sliding into gas pumps, into the hands of cashiers, and into the barren pockets of others who needed more than they. The last was how they justified the whole mess. The giving negated the taking, right? Right?

That's what Tyler said. Josh couldn't disagree when he was happy to end every day with a full stomach. Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt whenever he and Tyler ran off into the night with food and water and money they didn't earn. He never asked if Tyler felt the same way, because the look Josh could see in his eyes whenever he gave and took away told him everything.

There was a little girl in his General Psychology class. She wasn't a student, but the daughter of one, no older than ten and absolutely drowning in her mother's oversized jackets. Ashley was her name. She was enchanted by Josh, and he had no idea why. She would plop into the empty seat to his left and whisper questions and quips about the president and her mother's recipes and the nest of baby squirrels that lived in the tree outside her apartment window. Her mother had long given up on keeping Ashley by her side and out of Josh's hair. Not that he minded. She was bored and he understood. She was just a kid, after all.

A little voice caught his attention as he sat in class. "Hey, Josh."

Josh turned to look at the little girl, still listening to the professor speak out of one ear.  

"'Sup?" he asked Ashley.

"'M bored," she said.

"You've been here a long time, haven't you?" he asked.

"Yeah. I finished all my homework _hours_ ago."

She sighed and folded her head in her arms. That was when Josh noticed something on her wrist, nearly obscured by her dark, curly hair: a red stamp spelling out the word 'VOID'. 

"Hey," Josh said, now completely abandoning the professor's lecture, "What's that on your wrist?" he asked.

Ashley turned her head to face him, one round, tired eye peering up at him. "I got stamped at school," she mumbled.

"What?" 

"I got stamped," she repeated, sitting up to show her arm to him. "I couldn't pay for the lunch, so they gave me a stamp."

_What!?_

"Did they give you anything? They wouldn't just let you go hungry, right?" Josh asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

"Uh."

"Jesus," he muttered to himself, turning away. 

"What?" Ashley asked, worry tinging her voice.

"Nothing," Josh said as gently as possible, trying to hide his frothing indignation.

What the fuck? Why would anyone stamp-- no, _brand_ a child that couldn't afford to pay for their food? In what kind of a world was he living in? How much could a single school lunch possibly cost, anyways? 

Suddenly, he had an idea. A very, very bad idea.

"Hey, uh, what's your favorite food?" he asked, as casual as he could manage. 

"Eggos," she said with no hesitation. "I freaking love them. I haven't had any in a while, though. No money, no dinero, no moolah."

Not for the first time, Josh noticed the holes in her sneakers and the bleach stains on her clothing. He couldn't believe how hungry this little girl was. She was growing, quickly, and she'd definitely need more to eat than what she was getting now. But he could help her.

"Josh? Are you okay?" Ashley asked, looking at him with concern.

Josh smiled at her as cheerfully as possible, but his eyes were dark and his grin felt more like a grimace.

"I'm good, just a little tired," he lied.

Absently, he wondered if Ashley could see a hard glimmer in his eye, the one he saw on Tyler.

* * *

Josh didn't stray far from Tyler as they wandered through the grocery store later that evening. It was quiet, and the store was filled with a haunted air, the way all markets were after sunset, cheerful pop echoing endlessly through cold, fluorescent aisles.

 

They were quick and skillful and subtle. Or rather, Tyler was. Josh's heart would race every time he saw an employee and his hands would shake and nearly drop his stolen item, he wasn't as slick as Tyler. He remembered all the times he spotted people stealing food from the store when he still had a job. He never confronted them, he was shy, and he knew that people didn't steal food out of selfishness, but being the one doing the stealing made his head spin with a number of unpleasant feelings.

That was the way he normally felt whenever they went to the store. This time, however, his anxiety was drowned out by brazened determination. 

He followed Tyler as they picked up their usual-- a few nectarines up the sleeves of Tyler's windbreaker, small packets of cookies passed into Josh's pockets from Tyler's quick hands, slim cans of Red Bull and sticks of string cheese (an indulgence) hiding in the rolls of fabric that bunched and flapped where their shirts had become too loose over the last few weeks.

They were about to head out when Josh put a hand Tyler's shoulder, drawing his mouth close to Tyler's ear.

"Hey, Tyler, we need to get one more thing," he muttered.

"What do you need?" Tyler asked, breath warm on his cheek.

"My friend needs something," he said. "We're gonna have to run afterwards, though, because there's no way we're gonna be able to hide it."

"Josh, are you sure this is a good--"

Josh ignored him. He breezed past Tyler and grabbed a cart from near the entrance before walking towards the frozen foods aisle. He located the breakfast foods and found the Eggos. He smiled at his reflection in the glass door and opened it, and his heart was racing as he reached into the freezer and dumped the entire store's stock of Eggos into the cart. Box after box after box went in, and the cart was soon piled sky-high with them. Tyler, who had trailed behind him, watched Josh, wholly flabbergasted. He was so shocked, in fact, that it took him nearly five full seconds for him to realize that Josh was now running away.

Josh was _fast_. He zoomed past crates of fruits and vegetables and raced past confused employees. His vision tunneled around the exit. The cart, having built up enough momentum, now seemed to be pulling him onward as if it wanted to leave the store too, egging him on, and a smile nearly cracked Josh's face in two because _holy shit, what was he_ doing?

"Hey, what are you doing?!" a cashier shouted as Josh rushed past the checkouts and nearly crashed into the automatic doors as they barely managed to open in time.

Josh was laughing now, a manic, blaring cackle that he couldn't control as he ran into the parking lot, Tyler and the store employees hot on his trail. He felt wild, unstoppable, a man and a cart full of stolen waffles for a hungry little girl. The weightless, glowing feeling blossomed in his chest, and he didn't know if it was the exhilaration or his body trying to burst into a ray of ecstatic light. He took deep, deliberate breaths, trying to keep his head and heart rate level as he spotted their van in the back of the parking lot. 

"Josh!" Tyler called.

"Tyler! Hurry up!" he called over his shoulder.

Tyler sped up his pace and Josh heard his footsteps coming near, sometimes stopping for a beat or two as he threatened to dissolve into shadows.

"Josh, what the _fuck_ is this!?" Tyler shouted as they ran, the incessant rattle of the cart's hard wheels bumping over the hard, uneven blacktop nearly drowning out his voice. "You better have a good reason for this, I swear to God!"

The overwhelming giddiness in his chest and limbs returned when he realized that Tyler just cursed for the first time in the three months that he's known him.

"Ha! You just cussed!" he shouted, crashing the cart into the back of the van and sending Eggos flying everywhere.

 _"What!?"_ Tyler squawked.

"I promise this'll make sense afterwards! Just help me right now!"

Earlier, Josh had left the back doors of the van unlocked to make this part easier. He yanked the double doors open, nearly hitting Tyler with his flailing arms as he grabbed as many boxes of waffles as he could and tossed them into the back. Armful after armful of Eggos went into the van, bouncing off the mattress and knocking books and blankets out of place. The store employees were getting closer, and someone started screaming as the last of the twenty-something boxes were secured in the van. The doors slammed shut and Tyler and Josh raced for the front, leaping into the driver and passenger's seat. Josh shoved the key into the ignition and backed out of the parking lot with zero finesse, denting several cars and scraping against the abandoned cart on the way out. The pursuant workers backed away, not wanting to be run over, and Josh could see the deranged expression on his face in the rearview mirror as they sped out of the parking lot, tires screeching. 

Josh rolled down the windows and shrieked with joy, nearly crashing into several streetlamps as he barreled recklessly down the road. He only slowed down when he noticed Tyler beside him, gripping the dashboard for dear life, teeth gritted in an ugly grimace, wide eyes glittering with terror behind his glasses. Josh stopped at the next red light. Only now did the sound of their heavy breathing could be heard.

"Dude, are you okay?" Josh asked, breathless and still laughing.

" _No_ ," Tyler said, prying his fingers from the plastic of the dashboard. "Now would be a good time to explain what the hell you just did, Josh. If you stole, shit, I don't know, laundry detergent or alcohol that would make a little more sense. But you took _waffles_.That store is the only one for miles and we'll never be allowed back in again!"

 _He cussed again,_ Josh thought with glee before remembering that Tyler wanted his explanation. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, so, there's this little girl in my class, she's the kid of some other student, and she really, really, really, _really_ , likes waffles. But she-- she has no money--" 

His words devolved into uncontrollable laughter. He had no idea why he was laughing, but he was. He could barely remember what street Ashley said she and her mother lived on and he could feel the van lurching to the left as his head collapsed helplessly onto the steering wheel. Tyler spluttered and reached over to try and steer for Josh.

"Dude, get it together, please, I don't want to die like this, man," Tyler said.

Josh recovered enough to retake the wheel. "I'm so sorry, Tyler," he said, still giggling.

"You better be," Tyler said, but the venom in his voice was gone.

They arrived at Ashley's apartment a few minutes later. Josh was amazed at how run-down the building was. A strong breeze could knock it over with its leaning foundation and crumbling stucco. Thank God Ohio didn't get many earthquakes. 

They parked and sat in the van for a while.

"So, do you know the entrance code or anything?" Tyler asked.

"Uh, no."

"Then how are we--"

Josh pulled out his phone. He dialed Lisa's number and held the phone to his ear, looking at Tyler and putting a finger over his mouth. Tyler rolled his eyes.

She picked up.

"Uh, hello? Lisa? Sorry for calling so late. It's Josh, from General Psych class. Yeah, the one your daughter keeps talking about. I have something for you guys. Come down to the front, and bring Ashley. Okay, bye."

"A guy in a van, telling a lady and her daughter to come outside because he's got a surprise for them. Okay, not shady at all," Tyler said. 

"Nah, I know 'em pretty well. And I have Lisa's phone number, after all," Josh said, resting his arm on the sill of the open window.

"You do have a point," Tyler said, "But still. Maybe we shouldn't have gotten this van."

"This van is the greatest thing to ever grace my life, Tyler, don't you dare suggest that it wasn't a good idea. There's a bed in the back. A bed."

"Hello?" a voice called from outside.

Josh looked out the window. Lisa and her daughter were standing outside the building, both in their pajamas. Ashley was rubbing her eyes and leaning against her mother. Josh got out of the van and waved at them, and Ashley's face visibly brightened at the sight of her friend. 

"Josh! You're here!" she squeaks, and she runs up to hug him. "It's so late, though," she continued, "How do you stay up for so long?"

"It's pretty hard sometimes, I'll admit," Josh said, hugging her back, "But there was something I had to do for you."

"What is it?" 

"You gotta let go of me first," he said, trying to gently pry her off. She did so, reluctantly.

Tyler and Lisa watched Josh and Ashley as he opened the back of the van. She peered inside, her eyes widening when she saw what filled the vehicle.

"Waffles!?" she asked, jaw on the ground. "Oh my God!"

"Yeah," he said, snorting at the recent memory of him and Tyler racing out of the store with the cart. "We bought every box in the store." 

Tyler cleared his throat. Josh ignored him. Some truths were best left omitted.

"The cashier was so confused. You should have seen her face," he continued. "Two guys at the store at eleven at night with like, fifty boxes of Eggos."

He made an incredulous face to mimic the cashier. He wasn't lying about that part, the cashier  _did_ make that face when she saw Josh running out of the store. Ashley laughed at his expression. 

"So yeah. These are all for you," he said, reaching into the back to pull the boxes out. "Does your mom have some bags or something? I don't think we'll be able to take this all up by hand."

They all worked together to take the waffles upstairs. Ashley counted the boxes and found the total to be thirty-three. The waffles all eventually made it upstairs. Ashley gave Josh a final hug before returning to her apartment, and there she waved goodbye from her window. 

"Now I understand," Tyler said.

He turned to look at Josh. "But dude, warn me next time, seriously. I was so close to having a heart attack." 

"Sorry," Josh said, laughing. "But I kinda wanted to get back at you for what happened at the Starbucks."

"You've got your revenge. Y'know, that was awful nice of you," Tyler said, looking out the window.

"It was."

"But don't get ahead of yourself, Josh. This was still theft."

"You started stealing things before I, you hypocrite. How much do you think those waffles were worth in all?"

"Thirty bucks at most. It's not like they'll arrest you for it."

"Imagine if I did? What would I say? Oh hello, you'd like to know what I did to end up in jail? I stole twenty boxes of waffles."

Tyler snorted as they rounded a corner. Josh slowed down and started looking for a parking spot to stay for the night. 

"I hope we end up on the news tomorrow," Josh said as he slowly backed into an empty spot on the curb.

 

* * *

**2017 (March)**  

_I._

He made maps in his mind. He traced the routes to the showers, the cafeteria, the rec yard, taking note of the rooms and halls he passed, memorizing the glimmers of offices he passed and narrow hallways that lead to unknown locations. He'd steal extra napkins from the cafeteria and barter cigarettes and chunks of instant noodles for scraps of newspapers the woman in the cell at his right obsessively hoarded.

Tyler sat on his bed. It was a quiet evening. Most other inmates were out to watch the Monday night sports matches. This week's game of choice was soccer, which Tyler didn't particularly care for. He held a lit cigarette in one hand, sneaking a quick drag before holding it to an old paper lollipop stick he found in a corner, slowly burning the tight roll of paper until it was black and brittle. Perfect. The stench of tobacco filled his cell.

He slipped the cigarette between his lips and absently sucked the smoke as he reached into his front pocket and dumped a dozen little scraps of crumpled paper onto his bed. He took the largest one and straightened it out, pinning it against the wall and holding his burnt lollipop stick like a pencil. He bit his tongue as he struggled to remember the interior structure of the prison, carefully tracing out pathways and cells and from a bird's-eye view. 

He worked carefully, knowing there was no way to correct any mistake he made. His charcoal pencil broke twice between his shaking fingers and he cursed as the black powder sprayed all over his sheets. He picked up the bits and held the brittle pieces more gently, his eyelids slowly tightening into a squint as he perfected the map. Every few seconds, he'd suck the smoke of the cigarette to try and calm himself. He was nervous, how could he not be? Josh's bad news had worn a track in his mind as it circled around and around, trapped inside his skull. He had decided, deep in the tangles of last night's sleeplessness, that he was crazy and that he was going to break out and find Josh and rescue him. If he failed, if he didn't make it in time, if Josh turned out to be not real after all, he'd decide to look on the bright side and tell himself that the whole mess had at least given him something to do. He was very, very bored, after all. 

Tyler chastised his pessimistic apathy and focused on the task at hand. He laid the scraps out, continuing on an overlapping piece of paper when he ran out of room on the last. He called it a night when he couldn't remember what came after the cafeteria, though he definitely should know because he passed through nearly every day for the last three months. Maybe he was just tired. A heavy, unshakable lethargy had settled in him during his time in solitary that pressed his spine deep into his bed and curled his shoulders inward. What caused it was beyond him. 

He heard Josh's voice echo down the hall, a quick, sharp laugh that nearly got lost in the desolation of the prison. He raced to the bars of his door to see if he was there outside, wishing the bars were wider so he could fit his head between them. Tyler looks left, then right, and then left again. And now Josh was signing, an old Shakira song Tyler couldn't remember the name of. His voice is slightly off-key and easy and it's good when it's like that, it means Josh isn't worried or angry or tired. But there was no way he could not be any of those in his current situation. 

So it wasn't real. But what if it was? 

"Josh?" he asked softly. 

Josh kept singing, sounding as if he were just around the corner. 

"Josh!" he called again, louder this time, ignoring his own insanity and the stares of the other prisoners.

Josh's singing stopped, and footsteps came thumping down the hall. Tyler was quietly elated that he was right, that Josh _was_ here, but he listened for another moment and realized that the footfalls were too heavy, the soles too solid, and a guard came walking up to his cell. He was tall, taller than Josh, thinner too, with straight, perfect government-regulation hair. 

"First Alderson, and now you, Joseph," he said in a low voice. "You keep hearing these voices and you'll have to be evaluated, you know."

His tone wasn't unfriendly, but Tyler still wanted him to leave. He swallowed back his irritation and nodded up at him. 

"Thanks for cooperating." The guard began walking away. "And you better not be making this up for attention, because it's not gonna work," he called as he left. 

Josh's singing started up again as soon as the guard disappeared. Now he was singing that one Buddy Holly song about love and fast roller coasters.

The singing continued for several hours and it was starting to drive Tyler crazy. He begged every guard that walked by to let him out into the rec yard, to the showers, away from his infernal imagination, but none would acquiesce to his increasingly desperate pleading. He covered his ears, tucked his head beneath his pillow, and sang as loudly as he could to try and drown it out, but the sound came from inside his own head. 

He had eventually decayed into a tight, quivering ball of limbs and sweat on the junction of his bed and the rear corner of his cell, knees pressing into his ribcage, arms wrapped uselessly around his head. Tyler never thought he'd ever come to hate the sound of Josh's voice, but after what must have been the millionth rendition of 'Everyday', he was ready to burst into bitter tears.

"Stop," he groaned at his private assailant.

Josh's voice continued and Tyler threw his head back against the solid concrete wall, hitting it so hard his ears rang, giving him a few blissful moments free of his singing. The noise returned as soon as the pain stopped.

"Stop! Stop, please."

He was begging now, thinking about how ridiculous the whole situation was. A laugh bubbled up in his throat, but all that came was a dry, shaking cough. The inmate a few cells down, the one with the wide, frightened eyes who always stayed in to talk to his dead father, was leaning against his cell bars and watching Tyler quietly. Tyler turned a bitter eye towards him before retreating back into the folds of his arms.

"You know," the man began, ignoring Tyler's hostility, "you can't keep fighting it. I've been watching you for a few hours now and you've been miserable the whole time. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is to just take all the voices and visions as they come, man." 

"And what makes you qualified to help me? You've got it worse than I do," Tyler countered, recalling all the times he's heard him break down over his imaginary father.

"I'm a hypocrite and proud of it," he said, his low, soft voice cutting clearly through the yammering of Josh's singing. "Do as I say, not as I do."

Tyler huffed and turned his back to the man, gathering his blanket and pulling it over his cold body. The man was probably right, but he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it did. He didn't understand why he felt that way, but he allowed himself his childish stubbornness because there wasn't anything else he could indulge in to console himself.

He was still awake long after the prisoners' game of soccer ended, and he listened as they flooded back into their cells for the night. The lights eventually went out, and Tyler was left listening to Buddy Holly in darkness.

 

II.

Josh's voice was gone when he woke up. The first smile in weeks bloomed when he heard nothing but the rush of water in the rusty pipes and the roar of the distant sea. 

 

III.

He completed his map. He hoped the guards wouldn't take it away.

 

IV.

Tyler couldn't stop picking at the little lump in his wrist. It was red and raw and scabbed and he would have to peel the blanket off the parts of the healed sore that stuck to the fibers every morning. Still, he couldn't stop, and he knew it would eventually get infected, but the pain was a distraction and a comfort.

He began sitting next to the man who talked to his father during meals. His name was Elliot, he said, and then never again. He already knew who Tyler was. He looked up to him, back when they were both free. They didn't talk, didn't ask how the other was feeling because they didn't care and they already knew. Tyler felt no attachment to this man, but one day, as Elliot reached for his cup of coffee, the right sleeve of his jumpsuit rode up and Tyler could see a scabby sore over the lump on his wrist. 

 

V.

Ursa robbed a bank. And then gave the money back. Forty-three million dollars were taken from the accounts of Montana Senator Mike O'Brien and plastic baron Sandra Hewett, and then redistributed to pay off five hundred and seventy-three different mortgages and loans owed by other patrons of the bank. 

Tyler didn't hear this from Josh. He hadn't shown up in five days now, ever since he gave Tyler the news, and he constantly wondered where he went. Certainly he'd check up on him, help him find a way out, something, anything, but there was no sign of him. Tyler was again doubting how real Josh was. 

 

VI.

Josh appeared behind him when he was shaving with the other prisoners. His entry was sudden and spooked Tyler, earning him a thin, diagonal cut along his right cheek.

"God dammit," Tyler muttered, and Josh winced. 

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Where the hell were you?" Tyler demanded, irate at for frightening him and his lengthy disappearance. He traced a finger down the cut, red streaking along his wet hands and face and turning the shaving cream pink. 

"I'm sorry," Josh said, "I've been looking around-- trying to gather information about the prison and how you're gonna get to Columbus once you get out," Josh said as Tyler continued shaving, "There's a computer that controls the whole prison inside the main building, way inside. It's that one tower at the front--"

"I know where that is."

A few prisoners glanced at him as they shaved. Tyler suddenly found that he didn't care. He had been a fugitive worth millions, he's robbed and conned and killed and still won the hearts of millions. He was like a king, he realized. He had power, real power, power politicians and celebrities and CEOs had, not just petty abilities that were little more than party tricks.

Pride left a zinging taste in his mouth.

He rinsed off the electric razor and grabbed a starched towel, the rough material abrading against the tender skin of his face. 

"Yeah, that building," Josh said, trailing behind Tyler as he turned to the showers behind the sinks. He sat down on a narrow, empty bench to untie his shoes and peel off his socks. He dumped the shoes in the little plastic bin beside a stall before making quick work of the rest of his clothing. Tyler stripped quickly and efficiently, the buttons of his jumpsuit slipping easily through the worn holes with his practiced fingers. He shucked the fabric from his upper body and slipped it off his legs, and then removed his cotton undershirt and boxers. He knew Josh, along with several other inmates, was staring at him as he walked, naked, through the huge communal bathroom to dump his dirty clothing in the enormous bin on wheels at the other end of the room. He ignored it all and returned to the shower head he claimed as his own and turned the tap. Warm water sprayed over him and he shivered with pleasure at the way the scalding water chased the chill from his bones.

"Is there anything else you found out?" Tyler asked, his bad mood improved by the shower.

"Uh, not much else," Josh said, sitting down on the bench and leaning his elbows on his knees, watching Tyler bathe. "Do you have any ideas?" he asked.

Tyler lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed himself, ridding himself of two days' worth of grime. The raw spot on his wrist stung when it came into contact with the harsh soap. He sucked back a hiss and ignored it. 

"Yeah," Tyler said, "I'll chip my way out with a spoon or flush myself down the toilet."

Tyler laughed a small, bitter laugh, and Josh's face pulled itself taut. He stood up and walked straight into the spray of the shower to hold Tyler's pale, naked shoulders.

"Please, Tyler," he said, "I need you to take this seriously."

"What makes you think I'm not?" Tyler asked, watching the water slowly soak his friend. His black shirt was beginning to stick to his body and he was constantly blinking water out of his eyes.

"It's been six days and you still don't have the faintest idea of what you can do to get out. In eight days, I die."

They stared at each other for a tense moment. Josh cracked first.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Josh said, turning away. "I'm being a dick."

He let go of Tyler's shoulders and let his arms drop limply at his sides. Tyler was angry again, but for a different reason he couldn't quite understand. He grabbed Josh's shoulders back, hard, squeezing until Josh winced and was forced to look at him.

"Shut up with that, Josh, you think I can't do this?" he demanded. "If I wasn't capable of getting out then I wouldn't have been capable of becoming a criminal in the first place. We suffer, and we succeed. I'm not letting this place turn me into a coward. You understand?"

The shower shut off, and Josh nodded. He was shivering in the cold air. Tyler felt goosebumps threatening to rise on his skin but he willed them away and grabbed his towel. He dried himself and then threw the towel at Josh, knowing it would seem to land on the floor to everyone else. He didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't care.

 

VII.

Monday night came around again, and this week's sport was boxing. Tyler didn't know why he went. He followed the rest of the prisoners, arms cuffed behind his back, into the cold spring air. There were six benches set up in a hexagon around a ring crudely drawn in the dust. There was no more room, so he stood behind the benches and peered over the shoulders of other inmates. Guard Black was there in the ring, sparring with the burly woman who took Tyler's picture when he first arrived on the island. Tyler watched silently, the cheering of the inmates so far away, as Black landed a vicious kick right on the jaw of the woman. She fell, hard, and Tyler could feel the ground shake as she hit the ground. Black wiped the blood off her nose and wrung her hands. The crowd was cheering and her arms were raised, but there was nothing in her eyes.

Another volunteer went up, a man with deep skin and deeper-set eyes. He managed to land exactly four punches on her stomach and face before she swung her fist up in a left-handed uppercut that knocked him back several feet. 

The ring was stained with blood as challenger after challenger went down under a volley of fists and feet. It took him a while for Tyler to realize it, but those people came up to the ring not to win, but to get hurt. Many of them simply stood there as Black beat them into bloody pulps. 

The man finally tapped out and was dragged off by his friends, disappearing into the thick crowd. 

"Anyone want to go next?" Black demanded.

Tyler saw himself raise his hand.

Black quirked a brow and the crowd tittered, but he didn't care. People part like water as he walks into the ring, curious to see how long he would last. 

"Do you have any idea what you're doing," Black said lowly. 

"No."

"Do you really want to do this?"

Why did she bother asking?

"Hey, get on with it!" a woman from the stands shouted.

"It's fine. Hit me," Tyler said, looking over his shoulder at the eager crowd.

Black nodded, squaring her shoulders before winding back and socking him in the stomach.

The sound was like a baseball bat hitting a sack of flour. Tyler found himself on the ground, winded, vision doubled, ears ringing. He could see Black standing above him, her silhouette dark against the blue-pink-purple sunset. She reached down and hoisted him up by the collar, dragging him up to his feet, and he swayed when she let him go. He was pretty sure that was against the rules, but really, he didn't mind. 

"Dude, please, fight back, this is just sad," she said, winding back for another punch.

Tyler acquiesced and dodged her strike, leaping forward to aim for her stomach. She blocked it easily with an arm like a steel rod, shoving him back and knocking him down with a series of punches to the face and chest that hurt like landmines detonating under his skin. She finished it off with a vicious left hook that sent him soaring back towards the benches and onto the lap of a bemused spectator. Groaning, he rolled off of him and dropped to the floor, staring at the blood stains he left on the man's pant leg.

He was panting, he didn't know why, and he could hear Black approaching him. He rolled over onto his back, feeling the blood in his mouth run down his throat. 

"Happy?" she asked, prodding his soft gut with a steel-toed boot. She was frowning.

"What's your name," he croaked, staring up at her. 

"What?" she asked.

"Just tell me."

Blood from his nose was running into his ears.

"You already know it," she said, swallowing.

"No, your first name," he said. 

She regarded him for a moment. Then she kicked him, hard. His pained shout was drowned out by the hooting of the crowd, sour tears bursting from his eyes like squeezed lemons. He curled around his injury, gasping as he struggled to breathe. He stared up at her, teeth gritted in agony, blood and spit and tears mixing into a pink river that ran onto the dust.

"It's Jenna," she said, walking out of the ring. She raised both hands, dropping out of the tournament. His eyes followed her as she walked through the crowd and into the sunset, unwrapping the bloody tape she had wrapped around her hands as she went. 

"Jenna," he whispered to himself.

He lay there for what felt like a year, his whole body throbbing with satisfying pain as two new fighters entered the ring. It was the man Tyler had beaten on the first day against a tall woman in an orange hijab. The man gave Tyler an indecipherable look before beginning the fight. The two fought a good, clean fight, and no one seemed to remember that he was still there, leaking like a faucet. Good. He closed his eyes as he listened to fists and feet hit cloth, hit skin, hit delicate cartilage and snap in two. He wondered if Josh could see him. He wondered if it was possible to fall asleep here, with a bruised stomach and a mouth and nose full of clotting blood. 

Eventually, someone helped him up. It was the tall guard from last Tuesday, the one who had warned him about his voices. Somehow, Tyler was comforted to see him.

"Jenna's not one to be trifled with," he said, leading him out of the ring, "We're taking you to the infirmary."

 

VIII.

Nothing was broken. But his whole body had been bashed every color of the rainbow. He lightly touched his stomach with trembling fingers and almost cried at the roiling pain.

But he wasn't upset about it. He had asked her to do this. The pain was _refreshing_. It reminded him every moment that he was alive, that he was here, that he had things to do. No more floating out of his own body and watching himself go about life. The aching and stinging and soreness firmly secured his mind to his body. He hasn't felt this anchored in a long time.  

 

IX.

Josh's jaw dropped in dismay when he saw what Tyler had done to himself. He had been released from the hospital the day before with instructions to rest and not get in any more fights with Jenna Black because she was strong and full of hate and those two things were never good together.

Tyler had been laying on his bed, shirtless, when he blinked and Josh appeared standing above him, shining a soft gold.

"Oh my God, what happened?" Josh asked, eyes wide and white like two shining moons. His light flickered and threatened to die.

"Jenna," he said plainly, staring up at him the same way he did to Black. 

"Jenna?" Josh asked, face curling in confusion.

"The blonde guard. There was boxing last Monday," Tyler said absently, flexing his fingers.

"And you tried to fight her?!" he demanded.

"Yeah. I asked her to hurt me, actually."

Josh spluttered. "Why?! You know you have to get out, how the hell are you going to do that when you look like a rotten plum?!"

"Don't worry about it, Josh, I'll be better by then."

"Uh-huh, yeah," Josh said, nudging Tyler's arms off his chest to inspect the bruises on his stomach.

"Listen, this is going to be easy, don't worry. I'll find something to take out the chip and I can just shadow my way all the way back to Columbus."

"You're going to be even deader than I am if you do that, Tyler," Josh said, now running a hand over his face. The small shard of Josh inside Tyler's cheek again wiggled painfully against his skin. Tyler jerked his head away to avoid it, and Josh's hand retracted.

"It's a three-day drive from up here to Columbus," Tyler countered, "And where would I even get a car? Should I steal it and bring even more attention to myself?"

Josh pinched the bridge of his nose with his two fingers, grinding them into his skull. "I just don't know, Tyler. The only thing I'm sure about is that I don't want to die and you don't want to be in here forever."

Jenna walked by, stopping and staring at Tyler. She looked at him, his bruises, and then to the seemingly empty space Tyler seemed to be speaking to. She raised a brow and continued her patrol. Josh watched her go.

"Do you really think she could help us? Why not that brown-haired guy who helped me get to the doctor?" Tyler asked.

Josh shook his head. "No. The guards live on the island, I've gone around and observed them all and she's the only one who has no family, no friends, and she hates her job. You wouldn't expect it from how dedicated she is, but trust me. Brown-haired guy, he really loves his job. That's why he's so nice. He has a wife and two kids living here, actually, on the west side of the island. He'll never help you. But she will."

Tyler nodded to himself.

"Okay," he said, "Fine. I'm gonna trust you on that part. But how am I gonna convince her, though?"

Josh sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure. But I do know that she's got the surveillance shift tomorrow. We can use that to our advantage." 

 

X.

Jenna sat at her desk, her pale, sickly face illuminated by the cold light of the three monitors set up in front of her. Surveillance shift was always so quiet. Her eyes dragged from screen to screen, peering at inmates crying, sleeping, pacing in their cells. Nothing was out of the ordinary. 

The camera feed looped to Inmate Joseph's. She knew it was his because he was peering into the camera, his tired, damaged face taking up most of the screen. His skin was still bruised and mottled from the beating she had given him several days ago, his left eye still swelled halfway shut. He seemed nervous, eyes searching the camera like it would give him answers. He moved his throat like he was clearing it, the surveillance cameras unable to pick up any sound. 

_Hey. Jenna._

His mouth opened to continue speaking, but the loop switched to another prisoner before she could see what he was saying to her. She switched back to Joseph's camera and paused the sequence. He was still there, speaking to and staring at the camera. At her.

How did he know she was here? 

_Help me._

His brows furrowed as he continued speaking. Jenna was unable to catch all of what he said, but she followed the shapes of his lips and soon understood what he wanted her to do. 

She wasn't going to do it, though. She resumed the loop. Now she was watching a woman do yoga in her cell. And now she was watching a man sleep with his back to the camera. Guards Kaspersky and Owen requested an unlock on cell 9257 and she typed in the code, watching the two escort out an old woman on the center monitor.

She wasn't going to do it, but should she?

She's had thoughts about this before, whenever she worked surveillance. She'd stare at the fire escape button and her fingers would itch to press it, to release all two-handed and thirty seven prisoners on the island and let them hijack boats and helicopters or dive into the freezing water and see them flee. And now someone who she knew and trusted, to a certain degree, was asking her to do it.

She knew Joseph, she knew _about_ him. Despite the law, despite the controversy, he wasn't _bad_. He and Dun helped people, people who lived like she once did. She wouldn't have had to take this job if she had ever met him, she was certain. Ignoring his plea would be turning her back on him, his work, and all the people who went to sleep with a full stomach for just one night that The Twenty-One Pilots came to visit. 

She wasn't going to do it, but maybe she should.

Jenna shook her head as if her thoughts were lice. What the hell was she thinking? Of course she wouldn't let him out. Of course he was a terrorist.

She let a prisoner back into his cell.

Inmate Joseph appeared on the screen again, and Jenna was tempted to skip past his loop out of spite when she saw what he was doing.

He wasn't looking into the camera anymore. Now, he was talking to thin air in the middle of his cell. That must be Josh. He nodded and listened intently to the voice only he could hear. Then, he responded, and Jenna zoomed all the way in on his profile to try and make out what he was saying. 

 _Not-- -ening-- -ld you-- -y -gain_  

He fell silent, listening some more before nodding gravely and turning to stare at the camera again, and an uncomfortable chill ran down her spine under his gaze.

_Jenna._

How did he know she was watching him?

She shuddered and then looked over her shoulder. Inmate Joseph was smiling a sly, knowing smile at her when she looked back at the screen. His unexpected change startled her and she jumped more than she'd like to admit. He blinked, his dark eyes seeming sinister beneath his long lashes.

Jenna was about to cut off Joseph's feed so he'd stop staring at her like that when her spine prickled again. This time, it wasn't because of him.

There was another presence behind her. She could feel it. It was pressing against the backs of her eyes and breathing down her neck and flooding her lungs. She was trapped between Joseph's unbroken, unblinking gaze and the unknown figure looming behind her.

She couldn't place her finger on what it was, but it was as if there were someone else in the room, watching her from a dark, cluttered corner. She scanned the room, cursing her fear when she saw nothing there. Why was she so afraid? She was a guard, safe in the surveillance room on the top floor of the administrative building in the most secure prison in America. No one had ever escaped, no one had ever successfully terrorized and groomed a guard into treason, and no one had ever seen any ghosts on this island. 

It seemed that all of that had changed. 

Jenna looked back at the screen. Joseph was still staring at her but his smile was gone, replaced by an earnest, pleading expression, the round whites of his eyes shining out of his dark, bruised face. His red lips formed a single word.

_Please._

She couldn't resist. 

Her fingers rebelled and hit the one button she was instructed to never touch. She felt the plastic sink and click as she unlocked every single cell in Belle Rêve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyler: *procrastinates on saving his best friend's life*
> 
> The guards live on the island. They did this in Alcatraz, mostly because it would be a massive pain in the butt to ferry three hundred guards from San Francisco to Alcatraz every single day. The guards often live with their families, and there is a school on the island. Obviously the residential area is kept as far away from the actual prison complex as possible. 
> 
> Ashley getting her hand stamped to shame her for not being able to pay for lunch actually happened in a Colorado school. thinkprogress.org/colorado-school-stamps-the-hands-of-students-who-cant-afford-lunch-b47c65d447d3#.egqtkrm1n
> 
> Quick announcement! I'm going to go back and rewrite all the chapters, not because I'm dissatisfied with my writing, but because I want to make the length of every chapter even. Chapter 1 is 2k and chapter 6 is 6.7k, over three times as long and I want to fix that because it's bugging me. Storywise, little will change, but the organization, pacing, and wording will change to match my most recent updates. I'm not sure how it'll all turn out from here, but you might need to go back and read it from the beginning if I make any major changes, which will probably happen. Sorry!
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please leave kudos or maybe even a comment, even if it's just mindless screaming because all feedback is good feedback.


	8. Juarez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild gore warning.

**2017 (March)**

The prison was a beehive of buzzing doors and swarming prisoners, dripping with red honey as inmates punched, bit, and wrestled themselves free from the grip of the guards that had flooded into the complex. They outnumbered the staff five to one, and he was like a trickle of water between boulders as a dazed Tyler wandered through the violent, writhing tableau, unable to stop his compulsion to head towards the cafeteria. The route had become engrained in his mind.

He recognized several prisoners through the blurs of orange and blue. There was Quinzel, who had knocked a guard's helmet off and was giving him a ferocious noogie. Tyler would have laughed if Elliot didn't just fall prone at his feet, blood splattering on the concrete. His eyes were vacant and his body still as his limp wrists were cuffed behind his back. Tyler watched as he was hoisted up to be returned to his cell. The brown-eyed guard leading him away locked eyes with Tyler, and the life in them, the way they flickered back and forth in their sockets behind the visor shook something deep inside him and he was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of panic. He shouldn't be here. He was going to get caught and he's had to start all over again, this time in solitary if they ever found out that the jailbreak was his doing (which they were entirely capable of discovering).  
  
He turned tail and fled the opposite way he came, cursing his bright clothing and his slow, shitty body.

Tyler pressed close to the wall, mind tunneling around his singular mission: to get out and save Josh. He kept his breathing steady as he left the safety of the crowd, headed down the dank, quiet tunnels that would lead him to freedom. It seemed that the rest of the prisoners were headed for the kitchens and sweatshops. He could already hear the crashes and booms of overturning tables and machinery. He didn't blame them for the riot at all. He broke out into a run once he was alone, praying that they were too busy to notice he was heading for the offices and archives.

He took a left, then a right, and then a right again. He was in an office sector, it seemed, judging by the amount of discarded papers strewn on the floor upon the event the jailbreak. The workers must be hiding or evacuating; Tyler had no idea where.

Tyler checked door after door, finally finding one someone had left open in their haste to escape before any angry prisoners arrived. He yanked drawers open and overturned chairs and tables, searching for something sharp enough to take out the chip in his wrist. He found a fountain pen next to a picture frame. Two men with two daughters smiled up at him, skin tan and hair bleached by the summer sun. Tyler stared at it for a moment before dartng out the door, looking for a quiet place to take out that damned chip. He had noticed a small light blipping through his skin and realized they _were_ tracking him. The only reason they hadn't caught him now was because the other inmates were raising hell. He'd only have a few minutes.  
  
Tyler found a quiet niche in a hallway, leaning against the wall and slowly sliding down until he was seated. He rolled bck the cuff of his sleeve, revealing his pale, thin wrist. He held the pen in his hand, steadying his breath as the cold, sharp fountain tip hovered an inch above his skin. He could do this. He could do this quickly. He could do this before the guards came down the hall and grabbed him and dragged him back into his cell. He raised the pen, bracing his right arm for the impact.  
  
There was a moment of hesitation, and his quivering hand dropped the pen onto the filthy ground.  
  
_Shit._  
  
He fetched it and cleaned the tip on the sleeve of his jumpsuit, leaving behind a wet, grey smudge. He hoped he wouldn't get an infection from this.

He got ready to pierce himself, and again he found himself fighting to bridge the gap between his wrist and the makeshift blade.  
  
There were footsteps coming from down the hall, and Tyler's heart jumped.  
  
It was just the kick he needed. The metal tip plunged deep into his wrist, and he howled, fighting the urge to curl around his wound as he dug in deeper with the metal tip, tendons tight, prying the small metal chip out from his wrist, bloody and covered in little bits of skin and tissue, molars creaking as he clenched his jaw. The chip had sunk deep into his flesh, intertwined with all the flesh and gore. He tossed the pen onto the ground and pressed his fingers around the bleeding incision, and it popped out like a bloody pearl squeezed from the flesh of an oyster torn open. Tyler brushed it off his skin and onto the floor with disgust, standing up and crushing it under his foot, the slimy chip slipping under his heel before it cracked.  
  
"Hey!" someone shouted from the end of the hall.  
  
His vision was blurred with pain and panic as he ran from the figure down the hall, clutching his wrist, blood cooling as it trickled over his fingers and there was so much, God, did he hit an artery?  
  
"Hey, Joseph!" the voice called again, and Tyler recognized that voice. _Hell_ no.  
  
"Fuck off!" he shouted, voice dissonant as he tried to turn into shadow. But the pain was an anchor, rooting him into his flesh and Tyler cursed all the things he had read about adrenaline and how things stopped hurting when you were afraid. Maybe people like him were different. Or maybe he had been lied to.  
  
Jenna easily caught up, grabbing him around the waist just before he could duck into a random office.

"No!" he screamed, struggling against her abnormal strength. His legs kicked wildly and hit the door in front of him, pain shooting up his ankles as the door swung on its hinges. Her arms were like steel cables around him, and his body was wracked with pain as she squeezed his bruises. Tears came closer to spilling from his eyes every time he took a breath and he quickly did cry, a harsh, panicked chain of sobs that echoed down the halls. Where was Josh?  
  
"Hey, calm down. I'm not gonna put you back," Jenna said, but she was inaudible to Tyler, still thrashing in her grip. A deep sense of hopelessness rolled over Tyler as she started walking, carrying him like an overgrown kitten, back to his cell, no doubt. Where was Josh? He couldn't feel him in this place, and he wondered if he had somehow lost his abilities for good.  
  
"Josh? Josh!" he called.  
  
Josh wasn't there.  
  
Tyler stopped thrashing. He couldn't win this. He crept and slipped and evaded capture, and he hasn't been caught often enough to figure out what to do now.  
  
Much to his surprise, Jenna turned away from the cell chamber and went down an unknown route, the dank smell growing stronger here. She suddenly stopped, setting him down on the dirty ground.  
  
"You still have that pen?" she asked.

She was bright pink in the emergency lights.

Feeling petty, Tyler pulled the pen out from his pocket and tossed it into the ground. She scowled at him and picked it up, cleaning off the tip before rolling back her sleeve, revealing a small bump in her pale skin.

Wait, what?

He gawked as she slit the skin with almost no hesitation, blood streaming from the wound and soaking the dark blue fabric of her uniform. She pulled out the chip and regarded it between her fingers for a few seconds before crushing it flat like it was nothing at all.

"It's in your wrist? You're a guard," he finally said. 

She looked at him as she tucked the pen into her breast pocket and pulled a bandage out from the kit at her hip, wrapping her wrist tight to staunch the blood. She tossed the remainder to Tyler, who fumbled with the bandage as he tried to wrap it tight enough around his scabbing wound. 

"I am," she said. 

"That's not--"

"I'm a prisoner, too," she said, dragging Tyler up with significantly more strength than she has before. 

"What does that even mean?"

"I'll tell you, just not now."

He would rather know _now_ , thank you very much, but the air was getting fresher and he could hear the sound of moving water and 

Jenna took out her key card from the pocket of her Kevlar vest and scanned it on the little box. It beeped red.  
  
"Dammit," she said, and put the card back before she took a deep breath, reached for the thick bars, and  
  
pulled  
  
them  
  
apart.  
  
"Come on," Jenna said, slipping through the hole she had left in the steel gate.  
  
Dumbstruck, Tyler followed her to into the bay.  
  
It was filled with boats of all sizes and security levels, from tiny lifeboats to enormous, weaponized crafts so loaded eith steel they should have been too heavy to float. Jenna chose one of the lifeboats, a cheap little thing with a plastic shell that could hold six passengers apiece. She hopped into one of the back seats.  
  
"Please tell me you know how to drive a boat," she said.  
  
Tyler got into the boat, stomach churning when it rocked beneath his weight, and looked at the controls. If Josh were here, he wouldn't have to hotwire it, but since he wasn't, he'd have to make do. The whole system looked like a car's, with an ignition, steering wheel, and if he loosened the panel beneath the steering column--  
  
The plastic cover popped off, revealing the pneumatic steering system and dozens of multicolored wires.  
  
"I can start it, but not drive it," he said.  
  
"It's like a car, I think," she said.  
  
"You think?" Tyler asked, prying the necessary wires out of their sockets. He hoped those were those the right ones, he hasn't done this in a while.  
  
"I never learned how to drive," Jenna said as he touched the wires.  
  
The engine gurgled and buzzed as it turned on, water sprayed everywhere as the motor came to life. Tyler grinned and put his hands on the wheel.  
  
It took Tyler a moment to figure out the controls, but he eventually managed to get it out of its port and into the waterway, or whatever it was called.  
  
Steering the boat was like that of a car, but looser, somehow. It took less effort to change direction, and the whole thing bounced on top of the water as it sped out of the harbor and into the open air, wind whipping past his ears.  
  
It was bright, and Tyler squinted for the first few seconds in the bright midday light. The bouncing jostled his injuries but he could ignore it, because the air was cold but the sun was warm, and Tyler could finally detect Josh swirling through the breeze, racing by their side.  
  
"Which way's east?" He asked Jenna, who was clinging onto the edge of the boat. The hard plastic had warped around her fingertips.  
  
She looked around the island, then at the sun.  
  
"That way," she said, pointing back at the sheltered harbor. "You're gonna have to go around the island."  
  
"Great," Tyler said, "Can we go wide? I don't want them to see us.  
  
"They'll see us anyways," Jenna said, "It's got a GPS installed, just go really fucking fast."  
  
Tyler swallowed and nodded, turning the boat for the island.  
  
The prisoners in the rec yard crowded to the edge of the fence when they saw him and Jenna speed by, cheering as they watched the two escaped convicts loop around the island, hugging the dark brown rocks of the steep beach. Guards and military personnel Tyler had never seen before raced to the fences, aiming their guns at the boat as it headed east. They fired, and the small boat was soon peppered with dents.  

"Don't worry!" Jenna shouted above the sound of the motor and the salt spray, "They're not lead! They're not made to kill!"

He eyed the cracked and dented plastic. That didn't make him feel much better. 

They were eventually positioned before the glowing white sun, the light reflecting off the water like a golden path. It was cheesy to think of it at a time like this, he knew, and he squinted to keep the light out of his eyes as they left the island behind. 

_Hey, Tyler, I'm here._

"Now you're here?!" Tyler shouted. It made his chest hurt.

_Sorry, I was taking care of things back on the island. Do you think we'll be good?_

Jenna shouted something incomprehensible, and Tyler turned around to see two large boats speeding towards them.

"Doing what?! Raiding the kitchen?! No, we're not going to be good!"

"Who are you talking to!?" Jenna asked.

"Josh!" he shouted to her before veering wildly to the left, then to the right, and then back to the left. The boat was much lighter than a car, Tyler kept forgetting, and more than once were he and Jenna nearly tossed from the little boat. Josh's invisible presence struggled to keep up. 

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Jenna demanded, "They're not shooting! I think they want to talk!"

"Why would they want to talk?!" Tyler said, continuing on his serpentine path.

"They don't wanna waste bullets!"

 _Jesus Christ,_ Tyler heard Josh say. 

The radio in the dashboard crackled. The other boats were establishing a connection.

"Guard Black, Inmate Joseph! Stop your boat and surrender immediately! Allow us to escort you back to the island," a voice said.

Tyler laughed, looking at the officers leaning over the bows of the boats. "Screw that!" he shouted, going faster. His eyes were beginning to water at the speed.

"We will not hesitate to use force. This is your last chance--"

Tyler turned down the volume. 

" _They're getting ready to shoot!_ " Jenna and Josh said at the same time. 

Tyler yanked the wheel left and right at even more extreme angles than before as they skidded over the water, and Tyler could see Jenna holding her stomach and gripping the edge of the boat for dear life, eyes squeezed shut. He was starting to feel a little sick too.

He heard the rattling of gun fire behind him, and he ducked his head and prayed he wouldn't be hit. A bullet impaled itself in the radio, and Tyler cursed.

"Josh, can you do anything?" he asked.

 _I can take out their lights,_ he said.

"Taking that as a no!" Tyler said, desperately wishing he was strong enough to use his abilities again. 

_Sorry._

The boats suddenly stopped firing. Confused, Tyler looked behind him, then at Jenna.

"They're trying to outlast us," she explained, still green, "They've got more mileage than we do!"

"Do you know how far we've gone so far?" Tyler asked "We can make it to land with this thing, right?"

"I don't know. At this speed, we should be reaching land in about twenty minutes. Can you swim?"

"No. I can kinda fly though. And not need air."

"That counts. We can't take this thing with us all the way to shore. One, there might not be enough gas in here, and two, they're tracking this boat."

Tyler started inspecting the boat.

"Where's the GPS stored?" he asked.  
  
Jenna scooted foward and looked at the control panel.  
  
"I'm not sure," she said. "Somewhere in the radio, most likely."  
  
She regarded the radio before straightening her Kevlar gloves and ripping it from the dashboard, wires breaking, screws popping from the sockets. Tyler's eyes grew with surprise as she grinned at it madly before hurling it into the ocean.  
  
So that's why they kept her chip in her wrist. He wondered what she did to make it all the way to Belle Rêve.  
  
Now he sped up even more, leaving whatever ships that might be tracking them even farther behind, wind whipping past his shaved scalp as they approached the dark smudge on the horizon. He knew they were letting them get away, he could see the faint specks of helicopters rising from Alcaz in the distance.   
  
Josh approached him again. He was sitting in the seat next to him, in front of Jenna, leaning in the side rail and letting the wind rush past his face. Tyler could see him, but now he could _feel_ him, the way he used to. It was like regaining your vision after staring at the snow for too long, he thought, gradual and fuzzy for several minutes until colors became colors and shapes became defined. He looked at Tyler and smiled, squeezing his shoulder.  
  
_You did good, Tyler. That was totally amazing. Thank you so much,_ he said.

He was about to tell him that it was too early to thank him before he looked over at Jenna, whose seasickness seemed to have stopped now that Tyler had stopped curving crazily over the water. She would hear Tyler if he spoke aloud now that it was more quiet. They looked at each other and Josh shrugged. 

_She already thinks you're crazy._

"You're right," Tyler said, and Jenna looked up, confused and slightly irritable. Her old self returned the moment they were out of danger. Tyler tried not to hold that against her. 

Josh looked at her, and then at Tyler.

_I'll try not to talk too much when she's around. You don't have to reply to that._

Tyler switched the foot pressing down on the pedal. They were going about forty knots and their gas was running low. Land still looked far off, and Tyler prayed they wouldn't have to swim more than a mile or two because he wasn't joking when he said he couldn't swim. He had taken about three lessons as a child before dropping out. Being able to float didn't count as swimming.

"Hey, so, any suggestions for what we should do when we're on land?" Tyler asked, addressing both Josh and Jenna. "I've got a few ideas, but maybe you might know some places or people I don't."

_Take the scenic route. It's safer than going straight through a city, especially since they're probably already contacting the news about you guys. I don't think you'll need to worry too much about the whole house wrecking yet. When the government says a week, they mean three._

"Still, we have to be safe," Tyler said. "I don't want to go through all this crap just to be too late because the bureaucracy finally decided to get itself together at the worst possible time."

"What?" Jenna asked.

"Nothing," Tyler said.

"Okay, wait, question," Jenna said, "Where are you headed? I'm headed for Columbus and I'd prefer not getting dragged around the country with you."

"So am I," Tyler said, much to their mutual dismay, "So you're stuck with me, because splitting up to go to the same town makes absolutely no sense. Sorry. Two heads are better than one."

Tyler didn't trust or enjoy being around her, but he'd be glad to do so if it meant annoying her for a little longer. To be honest with himself, she was always ruder than she needed to be, and now he was going to take advantage of the fact that she was no longer his superior. It wasn't revenge, he didn't think, but a small, childish part of him just wanted to turn the awful treatment around on her.

"We're splitting up after we get there," Jenna said, "I don't want to think about Belle Rêve or Alcaz at all once I'm home."

"I thought you lived on the island."

"I thought you'd have a better understanding of what a home can be, being a traveling hobo and all."

He looked over at Josh, who only gave him a blank stare. Tyler wanted to tell him,  _Do you see what I've been dealing with for like two months?_ but his recent liberation didn't change the fact that he was still a little scared of Jenna. 

"Alright," he finally said, bringing the conversation to an end. 

The bobbing of the boat over the choppy waves felt natural now, and it was easier to ignore the pain he felt in his body every time the boat tipped off a swell. The land had grown slightly larger in the last few minutes, and now Tyler could make out a beach and a forest on the hulls behind it. Perfect for hiding. 

 _It's about fifteen miles away_ , Josh said.

Tyler raised an eyebrow and didn't take his eyes off the sea. 

 _There's nothing between us and and land, so it looks closer_ , he explained.

Tyler nodded. He checked the fuel gage. It was nearly empty after traveling about sixty miles at maximum speed. 

There was just enough gas to make it to shore.

The boat's engine stuttered and silenced as Tyler disengaged the wires of the boat. They sat there for a few minutes, floating on the still water. They were sitting out in the open, clear as day, but a tiredness had set into his bones from all he'd experienced today and he stared blankly at the wheel, only aware of his breathing and Josh's fuzzy presence beside him. Josh rested a hand in Tyler's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. 

 _Come on. We have to keep moving._  
  
He was right. Tyler took a breath and stood up, climbing out of the boat and stepping into the thigh-deep water, body shocking when it touched the cold water. Jenna followed, a small splash behind him, and she waded back to the stern of the motorboat and began pushing it. Tyler grabbed the bow and began tugging it along. They had to find a good place to sink the boat.  
  
The water got rougher at the bottom of a cliff, and there they (mostly Jenna) tipped the boat and let it fill with water, where the rising tide would eventually push it towards the rocks and dash it to pieces, destroying the evidence.  
  
Tyler and Jenna left the water, legs a little shaky on dry land. It was nearly afternoon now, but the sun did little to warm them against the chill of the wind. Tyler shivered and Josh, who had been following them quietly, glowed a little brighter and provided some warmth. Jenna seemed to feel it too, or she was just hiding how cold she was.  
  
"It's not too bad," she said.  
  
They marched across the rocky beach, their wet clothing heavy and sticking to their legs, and retreated into the small grove of trees that managed to grow in the sandy soil. The branches were still half-bare, but small, fresh leaves and tiny flowers budded on the sprucy twigs and Tyler detected the faint smell of sap and nectar, and he breathed in deep. There was nothing like this on the island, not the mildew or the industrial cleaner or the burning food in the cafeteria. It was the same scent he would smell at the playground in his old neighborhood, after the winter was finally over and he could return to the swing set, metal chains squeaking and singing along with the little finches that plucked the tender leaves from the trees and soil to eat. The sand smelled damp and faintly earthy, the same way it did here. He bit his lip and tried to think of his mission at hand. They needed new clothes, and a place to rest. Jenna kept fussing with her wrist, and his own ached whenever he bent it.  
  
"Do you have any money?" Tyler asked Jenna.  
  
"Nothing in cash. It's all on my card and they've definitely canceled it."  
  
That meant it was time to revert back to his old habits.

Tyler was still thinking of what they would need when they came across a small bathroom complex a little farther ahead, near a concrete basketball court. They crossed the field and separated, and Tyler was alone with Josh. He stripped off his jumpsuit and shivered in his underclothes as he rinsed the bloodied sleeve in cold water, removing most of the stain, then ran the pant legs under the air dryer, waiting impatiently as the weak machine chuffed out puffs of warm air. Tyler could hear Jenna attempting the same thing in the women's bathroom. Josh frowned and tried to help by glowing a little brighter, but it only made Tyler squint.  
  
The air eventually grew warmer, and the dark water stains lightened and disappeared. Thank god.  
  
Tyler put his clothes back on, tying the top half around his waist and taking off his undershirt, grimacing at the sweat stains. He made his way to the sink, where he washed himself the best he could, unwrapping the loose bandages on his wrist and cleaning out the wound, hissing as the water made contact with the raw, stinging skin. The dried blood and flecks of dirt washed away, leaving a small, jagged line in his wrist, ringed by pink and sealed by a dark, half-formed scab.  
  
He looked in the mirror, looking at his mottled skin. It would take a few more days to heal, a few days too many. His finger skimmed over the green and blue patches, wincing when he pressed down on the still-raised flesh. He didn't know what he was thinking that day in the ring.  
  
Feeling refreshed, he exited the bathroom and Jenna came out a few seconds later, hair unevenly cropped, Kevlar armor off and tucked under one hand. Her blue jumpsuit was dry. She walked past him and stuffed her armor into the nearest garbage can.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
They walked together through the empty parking lot. There was a small, quiet road that lead west, blacktop aged and grey and lined with small trees. The entire neighborhood was deserted. Everyone was at work or school or anywhere that wasn't here. Tyler was grateful for the silence.  
  
Josh was humming under his breath as he walked alongside Tyler, an odd ten-note tune that he repeated on end like a songbird.  Tyler whistled along, following his melody and creating a round. Jenna listened. She was still brushing stray hairs off her shoulders and back. He could see the small pair of safety scissors in her left pocket, rounded and blunt at the ends like a child's pair, useless as a dagger if stolen by a soft-handed convict. Useless for slicing out microchips.

They walked in silence. Tyler paid no mind when a car came by, but Jenna always seemed on edge. She had obviously never been a wanted criminal until now. Not that that was something he could look down on. 

"Hey, listen, most people still don't recognize me, and I've been blasted all over the news for like, years now. Don't worry. None of those cars have stopped so far, right?"

"I guess," she said, but she was still looking over her shoulders at every rustle and snap of a twig. 

The neighborhood eventually lead to a bustling commercial zone, and they agreed to stay out until the sun set and they could procure some normal clothing.

There was laundry hanging on lines in people's backyards, laden with drying clothes. Tyler and Jenna climbed over the fences to steal some pants to replace their jumpsuits. He felt a little bad, but pushed it down as they turned their backs on each other as they changed in between two buildings. His pants were too big. Jenna graciously donated her belt to him before cursing when she realized that her pair had no real pockets to carry her tactical trinkets. She handed Tyler the laser pointer and the screwdriver/can opener/metal file folding kit, and kept the scissors, the Swiss Army knife, and a few other things Tyler couldn't identify.

The sun was now high in the sky, and Tyler could smell cooking food from the restaurants in the center of town. He was surprised at how keen his senses were. Like the trees, it must have been the novelty of the scent. Unlike the trees, however, it made him hungry.

They took shelter in another quiet alley. Tyler decided to take advantage of their spare time and calm his anxious thoughts by making a more solid plan. He had no idea where he was and how far he was from Columbus. They needed a ride, and preferably one that went by night or through the countryside. He'd kill to be in a library right now. They could find everything they needed to know there. He sighed and leaned against the brick wall, smelling the garbage that rotted in their bins. Rich or poor, garbage stank. 

Josh sat on one of the dumpsters, swinging his feet like a small child as he stared at the opposite wall. 

_Weird that there's so many cameras in this neighborhood, isn't it? It must be gated._

"Damn."

"What?" Jenna said, looking up.

"Uh, I think we're in a gated community. There's cameras everywhere. Look," he said, pointing out the beady glass orbs hanging on every street corner and from the street lamps.

"Makes sense. How is this going to complicate things?"

"It's gonna be harder to get out, and the people are suspicious."

"So, same as everywhere."

"Kind of," Tyler said, looking out of the alley. A clean, quiet car drove by and whispered into a driveway. No, he wasn't going to steal it. The cops actually cared abut this place. He'd have to go to some south central of a big town and steal a hobo's car if he needed one, and that was exactly the kind of thing he said he wouldn't do in the name of fairness. 

Tyler heard Josh hop off the bin and lift the lid, rummaging. 

"What are you doing?" Jenna asked. 

For a moment, Tyler thought that Jenna could actually see Josh before he blinked and saw that it was he who was halfway inside the bin. He realized it must have to do with the shard of Josh still settled in Tyler's cheek. 

"Uh, looking to see if there's anything we could use. Or eat," he said, not wanting her to get suspicious. Josh backed away from the garbage can, choosing instead to dissolve into fireflies and swarm off to the center of the town.

 _I'll be back,_ he said.

"Alright," she said. "Not sure how much we'll be able to find here, though."

"Grocery stores are better," they said at the same time. 

They looked at each other, and a small moment of understanding bloomed between them.

Tyler dug through used coffee filters, scraps of wet paper, and other unpleasant items before sighing and closing the lid. He saw a few wrapped leftovers and such, but he didn't trust their cleanliness, especially since it seems like it's been a few days since the garbage has been collected. His standards aren't that low, and neither are Jenna's, judging by the face she made when Tyler nearly touched a diaper. 

"Yeah, let's not," Tyler said.

Jenna started looking through the recyclables. She pulled out a newspaper, looking at the front page before opening it to read a little more. Tyler could see the date. March 16. It was March 22 today. The headline read,

 

**"URSA CONTINUES TO EVADE CAPTURE FOLLOWING ATTACK ON VOLKSWAGEN"**

 

Interest piqued, he tilted his head to read the article.

 

_A week and a half has passed since the enormous data breach on Sunday. FBI and cybersecurity investigations have determined that the attack came from Pennsylvania through a Romanian proxy. URSA's real location, however, remains a mystery._

_Louis Freeh, director of the FBI, released a statement earlier this morning at a PR meeting._

_"We're still trying to track them down, whoever they are. This has been going on for months now and we absolutely cannot tolerate crimes as serious as these. These are acts of terrorism against the United States. But we will find them. They will be arrested. Justice will be served."_

_More on page A2._

 

"You know about this guy, right?" he asked.

"You're the one who doesn't know," she said, turning the page, "I had a TV in my room, unlike you."  

They lingered there for a few hours, out of sight from the cameras, reading old newspapers and nutrition facts and making idle, tense conversation. The sun set early, and Josh had returned earlier, confirming that _yes, they were in a gated community_ and _yes, there were security cameras posted everywhere so we better not give them a reason to call the police now, Tyler._

"What do you mean by that?" he protested as they walked. The street lights were coming on at this time, but the sidewalks were still full of people who didn't need to wake up early for work tomorrow. They should have waited until later, when the streets were emptier and Tyler and Jenna both stronger, but time was precious and they were growing restless in that alley. 

People gave them odd looks. Most of them were born and raised in communities like these, and it was entirely possible that this was their first time seeing a homeless person in their neighborhood. 

Staring just came with being trapped in a wealthier area. It wasn't a big deal to him. Tyler eyed the tiny, overpriced shops full of luxuries that no one wanted or needed but bought anyways because they had no other idea what to do with all their money. Gold-flake vodka and craft beer. Plain white t-shirts that sold for seventy-five dollars because a brand had slapped their logo on it. 'Thrift' stores that sold pairs of Loubutinis worn to a public event once, meaning they could no longer be seen again on the owner, and unwanted Hermes bags received as Christmas gifts, unable to be regifted because any luxury purchased or recieved was announced to the entire world. 

How quaint.

Tyler brushed shoulders with an older woman walking her dog. She frowned at him, and Tyler resisted the urge to visibly cringe. 

"Bitch," Jenna muttered, folding her arms and walking a little faster. "Can't wait to get out of this place."

Some of the hatred was envy, Tyler knew. He wished he had the money to buy custom-made designer clothing, the time to eat long meals and spend his days lounging at resorts and going on month-long vacations. He desperately wanted the security of knowing exactly where tomorrow's money would come from, a seven, eight, _nine_ -figure salary that only knew how to grow. 

For all his life, all he ever wanted was economic comfort and stability. But it wasn't until a few years ago that he realized that not having it while others could for doing less work than he was wrong. Sometimes he still had to justify it to himself, the stealing. It's why he and Josh lived as scarcely as they could despite the fact that they were _technically_ making millions. 

He was sure Jenna felt the same way.

The town was bigger than they had expected, they had been traveling at a brisk pace for the last fifteen minutes with no sign of the perfect paved roads ever giving way to cracked asphault and weedy sidewalks. Tyler, hungry and tired, trudged, feeling the hard, flat concrete beneath the thin soles of his shoes. The hard ground was making his knees ache. He definitely wouldn't be able to do much with the darkness until he rested and ate. He sensed a rat digging through the garbage cans set between restaurants and knew the outlines of every hidden brick, but he couldn't do anything more.  

"Is this really the shortest way out?" Tyler asked Josh, who nodded.

_Unfortunately, yeah. It'll be fine so long as we're quiet._

"What time is it?" 

 _Uh, almost sevem. It's a Friday night, so everyone's out late._  

"Damn."

Jenna leaned in.

"Listen, I know you talk to yourself a lot but _seriously_ , not here. They're already suspicious, don't fuck this up for both of us."

Tyler nodded solemnly. 

 _It's just another half-mile and we're out of here_ , Josh assured. Tyler only nodded. It was always hard remembering to keep his words quiet. He's spent too many years speaking freely with Josh.

They finally cleared the commercial district and re-entered the residential area. 

That was when they realized they were being followed. It was a private police officer, dressed in a dark blue uniform not dissimilar to Jenna's discarded jumpsuit. Anxious, they tried to keep their pace slow and even, though Tyler's body was screaming at him to run. Josh trailed behind, staying between Tyler and Jenna and the officer. He couldn't do much in the way of protecting them, of course, but it provided him a little comfort. 

They rounded a corner and off in the distance, down the road, Tyler could see the high gates of the community's edge. 

"Excuse me," the police man shouted, "What are you doing in here? I haven't seen either of you around this place before. I'd like to see some identification."

 _I should have stolen a community card_ , Tyler thought to himself. _Shit_.

Tyler and Jenna exchanged a look before breaking out into a run. The chase was on again. 

"Hey!"

God, this was worse than the boat chase. He was already exhausted and could barely get his legs to move, even with all the adrenaline flooding his system. Jenna was wincing as she ran and hey, at least they were in pain together. Josh was lucky. He had evaporated into a shining current and swirled around them and the officer.

"Follow me!" he said, making a sharp left. 

The streetlights here were dim for the residents' comfort. The spaces between houses and small roads were slmost completely dark. He grabbed Jenna's wrist, the one with the wound, he realized when he felt something wet trickle out when he squeezed. 

"Sorry!"

"Keep running!"

It was pitch black in this long, narrow road, but Tyler knew exactly where he was. Jenna trusted his instinct and let herself be tugged back and forth through the dark maze while the policeman's thundering footfalls grew fainter. 

They stopped to catch their breath behind a dumpster. Josh materialized, his form tense and fearful.

"Is he gone?" Jenna asked, breathing hard.

"Definitely not," Tyler said, "He's getting reinforcements. We have to keep moving."

Jenna cursed and stood upright.

"Alright. Lead the way."

They made it to the gate. It was twenty-five feet of thick steel bars, and Tyler wasn't sure if he had the energy to turn them both into smoke or if Jenna had the strength to climb or break those bars. It was dead quiet, and for a single, foolish moment, Tyler thought they were alone.

"Okay, so what do we--"

Light flooded his eyes. The cop had returned with what must have been the entire private force with their squad cars, dogs, and flashlights, and now their position at the bottom of the gate was clear as day.

A rush of terror overcame him as he remembered the SWAT team in front of his house all those months ago, and a flood of consuming darkness rushed from his body as he screamed, the high, hoarse sound of infinite fear. The bulbs in the headlights and flashlights all popped and went dark, as did the street lamps behind them and all the lights going down the road and through the entire town until it was pitch black.

He just blacked out an entire city. 

Tyler all at once felt very lightheaded. He could hear the policemen cursing, their dogs barking and howling, Jenna shouting in confusion, Josh calling for Tyler, and he registered none of it. He collapsed, caught at the last moment by Jenna, and the last thing he felt before the last of his energy seeped from him was the sensation of being carried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for not updating in so long. Depression sucks ass
> 
> I made this chapter 2017 only since it was so long. But that means that chapter 9 is going to come a lot faster! Yay!
> 
> Edit: Thank you to user curax for pointing out an error I made when talking about the security cameras. Not sure sure if anyone else noticed it but it's fixed now!


	9. Steak and Eggs

**2010 (March)**

They decided to stay out of Columbus for spring break. They had driven to the next town over after they visited Ashley's house and parked overnight at the first big-box store they found, an enormous Walmart. The police would forget by the end of break, Josh told himself. After all, there were more pressing matters than two college-age guys who stole only about thirty dollars worth of merchandise from a grocery store in an already crime-riddled neighborhood. The morning after his crime brought him sobriety, and he giggled to himself as he thought of how bizarre his escapade must have looked, staring up at the roof of the van from the mattress. It was quiet. Tyler's soft breathing and the rush of morning traffic were the only other sounds in the cold van. 

Josh sniffled, then sneezed. The sound startled Tyler out of his sleep and he made a small, unhappy sound as he rolled over and looked at Josh.

"What time is it..." he groaned.

"Not sure. Seven, I think," Josh said.

"Mm," Tyler hummed. "Happy spring break."

"Happy spring break," Josh said, drawing the fabric curtains on the windows and looking outside. 

The sky was a bright grey, migrating seagulls wheeling over the still-illuminated light poles and picking at the litter strewn on the bare blacktop. Workers cleared out the carts abandoned in the lot, guiding long, rattling trains of them back into the large building. Several cars were already in the lot.

"We need breakfast," Tyler said, sitting up and pushing the blanket off himself. He was wearing a soft grey hoodie that neither Tyler or Josh remembered being originally theirs. Tyler rubbed his eyes, automatically reaching for his glasses in the cup holder and putting them on before scowling and taking them back off.

"'M not coding today," he said. Josh remembered his surprise when Tyler first took off his glasses to drive. It turns out he only used them to read. He liked it, it was easier to see his face without the reflective glare of the cheap lenses. 

"How has it been in class?" Josh asked.

"Frustrating," he said, "I'm a terrible programmer. I don't know if it's the professor or it's just me. How's psych?"

"Tedious. I'm so far behind on my reading."

"You know what?" Tyler said, opening the back door, "Let's just ignore this for now and go get something to eat. We'll be able to focus better once we have breakfast."

Josh knew they were going to spend the whole day talking and idling, but Tyler was very good at making bad ideas sound like good ones. He'd make a good politician.

They stuffed their feet into their filthy sneakers and stepped from the cold van into the colder world outside. Josh shivered and zipped up his jacket, tucking his hands into the fleece-lined pockets. His breath hung in the air in thick white curls as they hurriedly crossed the parking lot into the store. Tyler swooped down and snatched a black plastic basket from the stack behind the automatic door.

"What do we need again?" Tyler asked, tucking the basket into the crook of his arm.

"Uh, more bottled water, some A batteries, that foot powder for your shoes 'cause they _stink_ , razors, aspirin-- oh, and baby wipes. Food too, and maybe some better pairs of socks. My feet are freezing."

"Me too."

The store was quiet and almost pleasant as they roamed from aisle to aisle, debating over calorie-per-cent differences in products and obsessively checking their pockets to make sure they actually had enough money to pay for it all. They had a little cash left from last weekend's pinching tryst on the bus system (Josh admitted it was a little fun), and Tyler was starting to look at people's back pockets again. Josh wasn't stopping him now. He'd rather be a thief than the guy who held up the line because he payed for everything in pennies.

An employee was asleep in the baby aisle. 'Mark', his name tag read. He had been stocking diapers on the upper shelves with the rolling staircase before sitting down on the steps and falling asleep, surrounded by boxes of diapers. His brown, messy hair was pressed flat on the side he had been sleeping on. Josh and Tyler giggled as they got store-brand baby wipes, walking quietly as to not wake him. 

"Have a good nap, Mark," Tyler said.

They passed through an aisle full of mirrors, and Josh set down his basket to look at his reflection, running a hand through his overgrown hair and scowling. It looked awful, and he fussed with it, trying to find a way to make it look a little less awkward. Tucking the sides behind his ears and pushing his bangs a little steeper helped a bit. The back was still bad, though, the ominous beginnings of a mullet. Maybe he could tie it back?

Tyler was frowning at his own reflection as well. His thick hair was beginning to curl at the ends, and the shorter parts at the sides of his head were beginning to cover the tips of his ears. The front no longer stood straight up like a duck's tail, instead choosing to lay flat against his forehead. 

"It doesn't look that bad, Tyler," Josh said, still watching him. "Just different. Meanwhile I look like a lampshade."

"I haven't had a haircut in about two months and it feels so weird," Tyler said, running a hand over his hair and twisting a little tuft, the way he always did when he was thinking about something. "And you don't look like a lampshade. Your hair's curly, and curly hair looks better longer."

"No way," Josh said, picking up his basket. "Anyways, I think we can both agree that we really need haircuts."

"Yeah. I'm tempted to just grab some scissors and do it myself, even though that's probably going to turn out as well as you could expect," Tyler said as he followed.

"Yeah, don't do that," Josh said. "Now come on, let's look at the CDs."

 

There was a small, grey car with an outdated Jersey licence plate idling right next to their van when they returned. A man was behind the wheel, with oddly youthful features and dark brown hair that swooped around his ears and stopped at the nape of his neck. He spotted him and Tyler and reached to manually crank down the window.  
  
"Is that your van?" he asked them.  
  
"Yeah," Tyler said, "Uh, is there a problem?"  
  
"Not really, it's just that you've parked in my usual spot. And there's no more room in the overnight area," he said, looking around the crowded back lot.  
  
"Oh, shit, sorry about that," Josh said, "You want us to move?"  
  
The man shook his head. "Nah, it's no big deal. I'll let you guys stay in there for another night, if you take me to that diner across the street tomorrow. They have great coffee."  
  
Josh and Tyler looked at each other. That wouldn't be too hard. They had fourteen dollars and seventy-three cents left. That would be enough for his coffee and their breakfast, and then they'd go back to the buses or to Westland Mall.  
  
"Sure," Tyler said.  
  
"Thanks," the man said, starting to drive away, "Name's Gerard, by the way."  
  
His car puttered out of the lot and joined the rushing stream of cars on the road, off to find another place to park.

 

Tyler put on his glasses and pulled out his laptop once they were settled back in the van, their spoils neatly organized.   
  
"Checking the news again?" Josh asked.  
  
"There's always something," Tyler muttered, and Josh watched him sign in to the public Wi-Fi.  
  
Josh hummed a tune and ate slices of dried apple as Tyler read his articles.  
  
"You should be working on that project, you know," Josh said, remembering Tyler groaning about his coding a few days ago.  
  
"I know," Tyler said, clicking a link about a burning mosque. "I just-- I don't know if I'm cut out for it."  
  
"What makes you say that? You seem fine at it."  
  
Tyler laughed. "No. No, I'm terrible. I'm failing that class. I don't think I told you that."  
  
Josh's eyes widened.  
  
"No, you didn't. I know there's not really much I can do to help, but is there anything I can do, at all?"  
  
Tyler shook his head, eyes drooping. "I don't know why I even picked this major. I mean, back in high school I knew I shouldn't do this, but I thought it would get everyone off my back about having a scholarship I didn't know what to do with. I should have just picked English or something."

Josh was about to open his mouth to reply when Tyler continued. 

"And we definitely don't have the money to stay in school for the extra years I would need should I actually switch. There's no way I'm taking out a loan, either. Five percent interest rate? Hah, no."

Josh nodded. He wasn't sure if psych was for him, either. He liked helping people well enough, he liked studying how people worked, but it wasn't his _passion_. It sounded a little entitled, even to himself, but it was the truth. If he had to do something for the rest of his life, he wanted it to be something he really enjoyed. And he was sure that that wasn't though being a psychologist.

"We're screwed."

"I know. I don't even want to think about what my parents will say. I still haven't told them, actually."

"You'll have to at some point, you know. They'll find out anyways."

"I know. But I would honestly rather be chewed to death by angry squirrels than talk to them again."

This conversation wasn't new. They'd rehash their anxieties every few days, and for nothing. 

"Let's talk about something else," Josh said. "It's not helping us."

Tyler shook his head. "No, it isn't. What else is there to discuss, though?"

"Uh, Lisa texted me while we were in the store. She said Ashley ate an entire box last night when she wasn't looking and got a stomachache."

Tyler snorted, and Josh could see his eyes shining brilliantly behind his glasses. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah. It's happened to everyone at one point. Still, she blames me. It's gonna be interesting seeing Ashley again when we all come back from break."

"It will. I'm still amazed that you actually did that."

"So am I. Like I'm normally not an impulsive person--"

"That's definitely true."

Josh huffed a small laugh. "Yeah. I'm not that impulsive and everyone's always like 'oh, you should take more chances', and I did, and so they better not tell me to stop just because I actually took their advice."

Josh offered his bag of apple chips to Tyler, who took a small handful.

"Who's 'they', though?" Tyler asked, mouth full of fruit.

"Family, teachers. Figures of authority or whatever."

"Oh."

"Yeah. First, they tell me to listen to them, and then wonder why I don't do anything for myself, and when I do, they tell me to stop."

"Well that's dumb," Tyler said, closing his laptop. Too much bad news was bad for the soul. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. A small mass of shadow grew over his eyes, and Josh watched as it hovered and rotated like a tiny, dark planet. Josh countered with a small star, and now Tyler sent his shadow revolving around it. They liked showing off to each other. They let the two orbs hang in the air as they both wondered what to say next.

"It is," he said. Josh wondered if sharing more would be unwelcome, and his dot of light evaporated. Tyler looked at him, the ball of shadow disappearing.

"Say it if it's on your mind," he said, "You know I'll listen."

"I don't know. I guess neither of us had 'normal' childhoods with our... talents," he said, fingertips glowing as he said the word. "Having regular siblings made it worse, too, I think. 'Cause if you're the only child, then your parents don't really have anything else to compare you to, you know? And you've talked about how your parents were almost scared of you for what you could do-- mine are sort of the opposite. My powers are less _scary_ than yours, no offense, and everyone in my neighborhood really loved it. I mean, I'm like a walking cloud of fireflies. Or a Christmas tree. Or fireworks."

Josh gathered some light from near the window and rolled it between his palms, shaping it into a bird that he flew around the van. He sent the bird sailing out the windshield as he continued.

"I didn't think anything of it at the time, I just figured it was normal, but then I met Lisa and Ashley. I saw how they acted with each other, and it was just totally _different_. I know they're just one family, but I see what they have and I just realize how different it is from mine. I felt like a circus animal when they made me do stuff with my powers. And I got scared that it's the only thing that makes them care about me, because they never asked me what I'd be when I grew up. Never asked me what music I liked, how my friends were, nothing like that. I don't think they even know what I'm majoring in. And they don't treat my siblings much better. I think they were just trying to get another kid like me. It's always just, "Show us what you just did", and "It's what makes you special". I wouldn't have minded it if they actually cared about anything else about me."

Josh bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to let the burn in his throat turn into tears. He didn't want to embarrass himself by crying in front of Tyler over something that ended years ago. He sighed, and cursed himself when his breath wavered a bit. He didn't know why he was so upset. He was away from them now, 

"Hey," Tyler said, and the way he spoke was somehow so tender that it hurt Josh more. He had to curl away from it, eyes squeezing shut. 

"Sorry for-- sorry for getting so emotional over it," Josh said, "I'm just kind of stupid."

Tyler shifted, and now he dissolved like silt in a river, and even with his eyes closed, Josh felt him filling the air, wrapping around him like a strange, cloudy cocoon. He breathed him in and out, feeling his shadow fill his lungs. He could smell him like this, Josh realized with a little grin of familiarity after a few breaths. 

 _Josh,_ Tyler said, his voice a dark whisper. _Don't worry about getting emotional. I'd rather have you be talking about what's bothering you than not. I'm glad you're so honest with me. You're my best friend._

A tear escaped Josh's eye at Tyler's proclamation. No one had ever called him their best friend and meant it until now, he realized. 

Tyler's cloud pressed closer around him as he cried, Josh hiccuping him in as his breath stuttered. 

_Crying's good for the mind, it's fine to let it out. It's been really hard these last few months._

"It-- it has," Josh says. "How are we even still alive."

_'Cause we have each other._

"Thank you for being there for me, always."

_The same to you._

Tyler slowly materialized, and Josh somehow found himself sitting on Tyler's lap, foreheads pressed together. He didn't mind the intimate position, just wrapped his arms around Tyler and allowed their bodies to sink until they were laying down together, face to face.

Josh wiped his eyes and looked at Tyler, his dark, worried eyes and gentle hands that rested at the base of his jaw, a warm and comforting presence against the deep chill surrounding them. 

"Can I kiss you right now," Tyler said, voice low and flat as his eyes roamed across Josh's face. 

"Sure," Josh answered without thinking.

Josh didn't know or care what it might change, because Tyler's lips were soft and warm against his and his eyes were closed. 

They pulled apart, and Josh could see his own face reflected in Tyler's eyes. He looked bewildered. 

"Was that weird?" Tyler asked. 

"Yeah," Josh said. "That's why I'm fine with it," he added before Tyler could grimace.

Tyler smiled, and the bags beneath his eyes seemed to smooth out. It was a good look for him. 

 

Gerard only ordered a coffee at the diner. Josh had insisted that he get something more substantial to eat, but he adamantly refused and waved his mug at them.  
  
"I don't wanna take more than I need," he said, taking a sip.  
  
"You've got to eat," Tyler said.  
  
"Not as much as I want a cigarette," Gerard said. "Now you guys should eat your food, it's been sitting there for too long."  
  
Tyler and Josh shared an order of pancakes and eggs. There were two pancakes, and they had split the stack and relegated one to each person. Sharing wasn't possible when Josh smothered his in syrup while Tyler used only a drizzle. They smothered the pile of eggs in ketchup and ate those together, trying to make sure they both got the exact same amount. They ate ravenously, having decided several weeks ago to skip dinner in order to avoid paying for three meals a day, and neither wanted to admit that hey were still quite hungry. The plate was scraped clean in a matter of minutes, just as Gerard finished his first cup of coffee. 

"So, uh, who are you, exactly?" Josh asked. 

"I used to be a cartoonist. For Cartoon Network."

"That's really cool."

"In theory, yeah. Most of it was just drawing shit again and again. It wasn't bad, it paid okay, but I just felt like I wasn't making anything substantial. Just cartoons telling kids how cool it was to go war. That was back in 2001."

"Why'd you lose your job?"

"I didn't lose it. I quit. 9/11 happened and I saw, you know, on the way to New York. I thought to myself that maybe it was some sort of sign to quit and start a band like I've always wanted to, but that just wasn't possible in my situation at the time. I stayed as long as I could, but I got worse and I realized that if I kept working I'd just wither away."

He took a sip of his coffee. 

"I gave up. And I didn't stop giving up and that's how I ended up here. I have a daughter. She's turning ten this year. I last saw her when she was two."

Josh's throat felt tight. 

"I'm really sorry to hear what happened. Have you been able to talk to them, at least?"

Gerard shook his head. "Too afraid. I just want them to forget about me now. It'll be better for them that way."

"Oh."

Tyler was playing with a small lump of cold egg on their plate, looking somber. Josh could see the wheels turning in his head. 

"I wish we could help," he said. 

"Thanks. But if you want to help me, help my family. Help the world."

"Of course," Tyler said. "Josh and I, we're gonna-- we're gonna change things. We have ideas, we're gonna make groups and join stuff and get things moving."

It was true. Tyler had plans, big plans, beautiful plans, plans he had confessed to Josh in the middle of the night that chilled him to the bone and gave him nightmares. Plans that Josh helped create and would someday execute. 

Gerard took a moment to process what he had said before speaking. 

"Now, listen," he said, leaning across the table, "I don't like to imagine myself as old enough to give people good advice, but everybody wants to change the world. But no one wants to get hurt doing it. And those things go hand in hand. You say you're gonna do these things, and I don't doubt that you will, but you have to do it the moment you think an opportunity is there. You can't wait for a perfect moment. There never will be one. We're used to being crushed after almost a decade of shitty leaders. None of this is normal, and I want you to question everything. Make _everyone_ question everything. The two of you alone can't overturn a country. Be brave."

Gerard tilted the mug towards the ceiling, swallowing the last few drops before getting up. 

"I'll see you two around, on the street and maybe the news. Thanks for the coffee."

Gerard left quickly, leaving behind the scent of stale nicotine. 

* * *

**2017 (March)**

XI.

Jenna had been awake for about an hour before Tyler woke up. They were in a quiet stretch of land that separated two towns, hilly plains filled with tall grass and short trees. It was the perfect place to rest and hide. The air was still cold, the sun just above the horizon, and the flowering grass was beaded with drops of dew.

There was just so much _space_. She'd gotten used to the cramped quarters of the tiny island and the confines of her prison, and the open air was still a blessing to her, even if it was in cold, wet grass. She breathed in deep, trying not to audibly sigh upon release. They had to start moving soon, but they could spare a few minutes, couldn't they?

Birds sang in the trees that peppered the field, and she would have called it beautiful if she hadn't been distracted by all the injuries she had sustained from escaping a maximum security prison, climbing a fence while carrying an unconscious Tyler Joseph, and hauling ass over what felt like twenty miles. She was probing the tear in her left pectoral when she heard a groan behind him, and saw that he had woken up, and was now raising himself up with some difficulty.

"Morning," she said, voice flat and husky, wincing as she rolled her arms and felt the muscles in her chest painfully twinge.

"What the fuck..." he slurred, rubbing his eyes.  

"You're welcome."

He made a confused noise, and it was only then that he seemed to realize what had happened.

"Oh, holy--"

"Yeah. We're somewhere between Hope and Camden, which means I carried your sorry, unconscious ass for about four miles after almost killing myself getting over that fence."

That's probably the most she's ever said to him at once. His hand comes to rest on his forehead, and his eyes are wide as he stares blankly at a patch of grass. 

"T-thank you, listen, I'm really sorry for passing out and everything--"

She tuned him out now. She hated it when she hurt his feelings because he tended to turn into a sniveling mess, and apologizing to people was harder than she suspected it should be.

The highway was quiet, cars only passing by once every few minutes. There was nothing else around, Jenna hadn't seen a bus stop or a railroad station the entire time. They'd have to hitchhike in order to get to New York.

Finding a ride wasn't too hard. They collapsed into the back seat of an old, rickety sedan whose owner looked as worn and tired as his car. They sat in silence as he hummed along to old tunes from the new radio, the plastic finish clean and shiny and completely out of place.

"So who are you two, exactly?" he said as he switched lanes. New York City, twenty miles.

"Homeless," Tyler said.

The driver hummed. "I see more and more of people like you every year. This country's going down the toilet."

"You could say that again," Tyler said.

Someone cut them off, and the driver cursed and swerved out of the way.

"And then they arrested those Twenty One Pilots guys, or at least their leaders. What a shame. They were doing good work. They might have been able to help my sister."

"What happened to her? If that's alright to ask," Tyler said. 

"Haven't you heard? People can't come in anymore. No one, no immigrants, no nothing. My sister's in El Salvador, she was so close to coming before they turned her back at the airport. She had a green card and everything."

Jenna glanced at Tyler, gauging his reaction. She could see wisps of smoke curling from his nostrils. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Tyler said, trying to hide the anger in his voice. She could still hear it, though, threatening to swallow his composure like the darkened gibbous behind a crescent moon. "I wish I could help you somehow."

The driver hummed and said no more. 

The quiet suburban land that had been at their side for several hours now gave way to tall apartment buildings and cracked sidewalks. Jenna rolled down the window and looked further ahead, and she could see highest skyscrapers off in the distance. They were in New York.

The driver took them halfway to downtown before dropping them off.

"Thank you sir," Jenna said. 

"No need to thank me," he said," We live in a time of hate, and it's my duty to show love to everyone I can. That's how the world changes, you know."

He sped away and disappeared into the heavy traffic. 

They wandered for some time before finding a subway station. New York's subway stations were crowded, impossibly so. She was terribly reminded of the lowest levels of Belle Rêve where she spent most of her days, with its heavy concrete walls, mildewed smell, and fluorescent lights. She felt her stomach turn as they descended on the escalator, but didn't show it. Tyler seemed fine, after all. Probably because she had been in there several more years than he. Or maybe he was just very good at hiding his fear. 

They looked around the station. Jenna was aware of every glance and glimmer from passerby and the security cameras posted in the corners. She had done enough surveillance shifts to know that no one paid attention to security footage until _after_ something occurred, but the paranoia that someone would recognize her still nipped her heels and soured her mood.

The air was dank with human breath, and the air rippled with constant chatter and garbled announcements over the PA. Jenna shuddered. There were several ticket kiosks on one wall, a long line protruding from each of them. Signs warning riders to not step past the bright yellow line were intermingled with ads for movies and chain restaurants. There was an old man with a guitar and a paper cup singing on a bench on the opposite side of the station, but Jenna couldn't hear him through all the noise.

She looked at Tyler, who was muttering to himself, inaudible. She turned away, heading for one of the glowing maps set into the walls. He got irritated when she interrupted him, she had learned, and it was better to just let him finish out his imaginary conversation with Josh Dun rather than try and snap him out of it if it wasn't urgent.

She inspected the map. They were in the northeast side of town, and if they took the Silver Line, they'd end up at the Carrie Fisher train station where, unlike the JFK Airport, they could make it to Columbus without being detected thanks to low security. She didn't know how much a ticket cost, though.

Jenna made her way back to Tyler, who was sitting on a concrete bench and talking quietly to the space on his left. The locals, used to people out of their minds, didn't give him a second look. Still, it could draw unwanted attention, from security or tourists or astute children. 

"Hey," she said. 

"Assuming we take the-- oh, what?"

"Do you know how much a train ticket costs?" she asked, "I figured we head to Fisher Station and take the train to Columbus."

"Why don't we head to the airport and take a plane?" he asked.

This man was beyond naive. "Because it's an _airport_. Joseph, don't tell me you don't know about their security."

"Okay, yes, I _know_  we might get spotted but listen, we've gotta get to Columbus as soon as possible and we have to take that risk."

"Why?"

He fell silent and wouldn't look at her.

"Why?" she demanded.

She squinted, thinking back to the way he acted during months she had known him, and the words he chose when speaking to thin air.

"Wait, this better not have anything to do with--"

"It has everything to do with Josh."

Jenna resisted the urge to throw herself (or maybe Tyler) onto the electrified subway tracks. She had tried to bring up Josh as little as possible over the last few days because the arguing that always followed slowed them down. It was too late to avoid it now, she figured. 

"Listen to me," she said, "He's not real."

"He _is_ ," he insisted, his voice edging dangerously close towards being petulant. She half expected him to cross his arms and pout, maybe even stamp his foot. She couldn't believe that someone she had deemed a hero for nearly half a decade was like _this_  in person. Irritation, hot and snappish, boiled up inside of her. 

"Okay, if he is, then where the hell is he? You're obsessed with him, and you need to get over the fact that he's gone. It's been three months now, you've had enough time to grieve. It's all you did in there, you know."

Tyler suddenly stood upright. His arms were tense at his sides, tendons tight, and his eyes narrowed into burning slits. She tensed, ready for him to shove her, try to break her teeth, strangle her. She'd win, she wasn't afraid, but the first hit was always the hardest. His arms flashed upwards and she prepared to block him, but they went high above her head, attacking himself. He clutched his shaved head, fingers ripping at his scalp as they attempted to tug at what had been shorn off long ago. His face tilted towards their shoes, but she could still see his pained expression.

"Just. Fuck," he said. "I _know_ you don't get it and don't give a shit, but I've got faith that he's alive and I can save him if I just get there in time. Just... just entertain that for me, would you?"

She thought for a minute.

"No."

And again, he didn't turn his fury outward. He wasn't a toddler, she realized. He was a dud firecracker-- nothing but a short fuse that lit nothing. She walked away, getting ready to buy two passes from the kiosk when she realized that the money Tyler had stolen yesterday was still with him. She cursed under her breath.

Jenna turned back to find him, only to see that he was a few steps behind her. She raised an eyebrow at him. He swallowed.

"Yeah, I-- I'll take the train," he said, quiet. "It shouldn't take that long, right? It's only day eleven, and I have two and a half more days before the bulldozers come, if the train ride takes, like, twelve hours tops, I'll have more than enough time to get my shit in order and figure out how to bring him back. Right?"

She had no idea what he was talking about, but if it made Tyler comply, she would take it. She hummed something noncommittal and held out her hand for him to give her the money. He didn't seem bitter, but she no longer expected it. He handed her the money, two fives and a crumpled one. He looked over her shoulder as she bought the passes, and she bumped into him as she tried to leave the kiosk.

"Personal space," she said, handing him a pass.

The subway arrived a few minutes late. They boarded, along with everybody else, and Jenna only managed to score a seat because it was the one next to a drunk woman with one eye and nine fingers. She didn't care. She's seen people more disfigured than she, and this woman was probably kinder than everyone she had met in the last six years. The woman opened one jaundiced eye and grinned a toothless smile.

"Heyo," she said, waving the hand with the missing ring finger.

"Hello," Jenna said in the most neutral tone she could manage. 

The subway began to move, and Jenna's heart raced as her back pressed against the seat and the light in the underground tunnels rushed by. It wasn't as bad as Tyler's joyride in the speedboat, but she still wasn't used to high speeds.

Tyler was standing beside her, and he looked oddly excited as he looked around the car, as if he had entirely forgotten about their argument just a few minutes before. He noticed her looking at him.

"We're going to need to pay for those train tickets, aren't we?" he said, a small, impish smile growing on his face.

Jenna was so wrapped up in his immaturity that she had forgotten what Tyler had spent most of his adult life doing. He might have been a seasoned hacker, robber, and vigilante, but he had started out as an ordinary, no-good, lowdown thief.

Tyler got up from his seat. He was in his element now. Jenna admitted that she was a little excited to see him work. 

"Watch this."

She watched from her seat as Tyler mingled with the standing passengers. Her eyes caught the small flashes of him revealed behind the wall of bodies, the turn of his head, the back of his shoe, his deft fingers flashing over pockets and purses, his hands sometimes turning into a strange, dark matter to pry things out from tighter pockets without detection. No one noticed him. He made it to the end of the car, just in time for the subway to come to another stop, and he slipped out the door along with several other people. 

He didn't return. 

She couldn't help but wonder if he had ditched her. She really made him mad, she knew, and she was pretty sure he hadn't forgiven her for it even though he seemed to have forgotten about it. Jenna wouldn't be entirely surprised if he just disappeared to find the airport by himself. By now, she was ready to continue without him if he did. They were headed for the same city, their paths would cross again, she was sure. Not that she would be aching to see him again.

She looked at the woman next to her. She had fallen asleep. 

Jenna finished the ride in silence. The conductor announced their arrival at Fisher Station and she stretched when she stood, working out the kinks she had developed in her back after about half an hour of sitting. She exited the subway, looking around the underground station when she saw that Tyler was waiting for her.

She didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. He looked elated, though.

"I came out of the front car. You wouldn't _believe_ how much I managed to get," he said, patting his pockets. "Come into the bathroom, I'll show you."

"I can't follow you in there."

"Oh, right. I'll just go myself. Just stay here-- don't leave without me or something or start a fight."

As if she was the reckless one. 

She watched him go, thinking for the first time of what the fuck she's going to do when she finally gets home. Wherever home is. The underground would always welcome her back, even more so now that she's an escaped convict. The alleys and old warehouses always there for her when she was in need, and she knew was in an more vulnerable position than when she was younger. She couldn't get an apartment or a car or a job, at least not with her real name. But she had Pete, she had Sarah and everyone else. They could build her a new identity from nothing but dust, get her gigs, play doctor when she got hurt.

Jenna admitted to herself, not for the first time, that she missed it. 

Tyler came back a few minutes later, pockets flatter, grin wider.

"Three hundred and seventy-six dollars, five different credit cards, and six condoms," he said, laughing a bit at the last one. "All from only about twenty minutes of work."

Jenna nods, still slightly lost in thought. "That's enough to pay the fare, right?"

"I'm sure it is."

"Let's go up," Jenna says, standing. "Apparently the train station's right above us."

The railway system was in bad condition, to say the least. The station was in a state of decay even worse than the subway's with its crumbling platform and broken lights, and the train itself lumbered along at a pitiful thirty miles an hour over dented, ancient tracks. She could practically hear the screws in the wheels rattling.

Their tickets were seventy-five dollars each. A little expensive for a ride so shitty, but that didn't matter too much. It wasn't like they broke their backs getting that cash.

They boarded the train after a long wait spent entirely in silence, the only sound from either of them coming from the jiggling of Tyler's foot as he bounced his leg impatiently. 

The interior of the train was only marginally nicer than the subway. It was old, like everything else about it but the seats were a little softer, maybe a little cleaner, and the view was certainly nicer-- Jenna watched the city disappear with rapt attention. Tyler was less affected by the novelty of it and focused on finding food. Apparently there was a dining car somewhere in the infinitely long train. Having the seat closest to the window, Jenna stayed behind and watched the world go by. 

Tyler returned some time later, laden with several bags of chips and sodas. Jenna pulled out the collapsible table set into the seat in front of her, and he dumped them all down with a loud cacophony of crinkling. Hungry as she was, she had always hated the taste of junk food, and her face showed it.

"I promise I'm not normally this unhealthy, but it's got the most calories for the amount paid and--"

"You don't need to explain it to me. Just give me something."

"--and we haven't eaten in like two days," he insists on finishing.

The chips are too salty, the sodas too sweet, but it filled her stomach and she no longer felt like collapsing. Her muscles were still in pain and she was still an escaped convict, but now she had some energy and felt a little less irritable. Tyler seemed to be the same way as well. 

Jenna watched the sun set from her seat at the window, the plains an unending, shifting sea that seemed to roll by the train. 

 

XII.

The train broke down in the late morning of the next day, somewhere in central Pennsylvania. Jenna was half expecting it from the way it swayed and snorted like an old horse. Apparently something was wrong with the engine. They came to a stop at the next station, in Middleburg, and the passengers were allowed off the train until three while repairs were made. 

Jenna had slept in; not even six years of a military schedule was able to stop her from getting the rest she desperately needed. She woke up to the sun shining through the thin curtain of the train's window, realizing that Tyler's head had slumped onto her shoulder overnight. She pushed his head off of herself as quickly as she could without waking him up.  
  
She went to the bathroom. Her hair was a greasy mess and there was a red spot on her cheek where her face had pressed against the top of Tyler's head. She straightened herself out the best she could, ignoring the twinges in her shoulder and chest when she stretched and rolled her back. She knew it would only get worse, but there was nothing she could do about it. She ran a hand through her short hair and left the bathroom.  
  
Tyler was awake when she came back, rubbing the grit out of his eyes.  
  
"Mornin'," he said, stretching.  
  
"Good morning. How much money do we have?"  
  
Tyler started to scoot out from the seat, and Jenna sidestepped to let him out into the narrow isle. He seemed to be in good spirits; his tired, unkempt face carried no sign of resentment as he looked at her.  
  
"Thirty two dollars," he said. "We're about two hundred miles from Columbus, that's just about four hours. It's enough for breakfast and lunch, I think."  
  
"Good, but it might take longer."

"Why?"

"The train broke down apparently. They're not sure how long it's gonna be stuck here."

Tyler's lip curled. "Ugh. Let's just get breakfast."

"Not chips."

"Nope."

Middleburg was small, and cheerfully quiet like a Sunday afternoon. It didn't take them long to find an old diner on the corner of Main and Southend, nearly empty save for two waiters and an old couple having brunch together.

They entered and ordered, sitting in a booth for two next to the large windows. The waitress attending them was quiet and polite to the point of meekness. Jenna gently fingered the petals of the rose in the little glass vase set on the table while Tyler watched the news on the TV across from him. She couldn't see it from where she was sitting, but she could hear the anchors rattling off the unfortunate events that were happening around the world.    
  
"The search for Joseph and Black continues into the third day with much progress. Authorities believe that the two are somewhere in the western Pennsylvanian area continuing to head west, judging by the locations of numerous sightings over the week. They were last spotted in McClure, Pennsylvania. We've invited Cindy Rodriguez, representative of the FBI, to speak with us today."  
  
Intrigued, she craned her head around to look at the television. The screen was split in half to show a young reporter and a middle aged woman, face lined and serious.  
  
"So, Cindy, where exactly are these two going?" the anchor asked. "Most convicts flee to quieter states or even other countries."  
  
"We think they're headed for Columbus. Their records show that they're both from the Ohio area and it may be that they're trying to return to their hometown and to Joseph's former base of operations. We're unsure if he intends to resume his activities once he makes it back. _If_ he makes it back."

"You don't seem awfully confident that you'll catch him."

"Make no mistake, we are going to catch him. But people like him, like her, they're tricky, and it takes a special type of genius to hunt down. Our regular forces have been unable to capture them, and we are assembling a special unit to find and retrieve them. We are working in America's best interests, and having domestic terrorists running amok in our most vulnerable communities won't go unpunished."

"Alright, thank you for your time Cindy, we very much appreciate it. The FBI's released a statement saying that anyone with any information regarding them can call their local police force for a reward of up to ten thousand dollars."

A montage of blurry photos and videos flashed on the screen. There was footage of Tyler and Jenna slinking through alleys back in the gated community, a picture of Jenna paying for a subway pass in New York, and even a photo of Tyler with his hand in a woman's back pocket, in the middle of taking her wallet. It ended with their mugshots shown side by side, Jenna looking six years younger, twenty-one, puppy fat still softening the edges of her face, Tyler looking positively haunted with the terrified look on his face.

Not exactly flattering.  
  
She looked away from the screen, heart dead in her chest. The waitress came back around with their food, two plates piled high with steak and eggs that Jenna no longer wanted to eat. She set the plates down and poured their coffee, giving them an extra glance as she went over to the old couple a few feet away.   
  
Jenna's eyes returned to the table. Tyler was staring at her, waiting for their eyes to meet. His face was flat and neutral, as if nothing had happened. He took a sip of his coffee, resting his elbows on the table and holding the mug between two hands. It was very subtle, but Jenna could see the dark coffee in his mug rippling as his hands trembled. She leaned close to him, voice low.  
  
"We need to go, now," she said.  
  
"I-- that is the dumbest-- no, we don't," he said, sounding completely unfazed. Jenna wanted to scream. That waitress was still watching them, and the longer they waited the more likely it was that they would be caught.  
  
"What?" she demanded.  
  
His voice got softer as he spoke. "Think about it. Two people who match the descriptions of escaped convicts watch a news clip about them and then they leave in a rush without even touching their food. And without paying. No way, dude."  
  
She hated to admit it, but he was right. Jenna sat back and huffed, clenching her toes as she tried to ignore her cold sweat.  
  
"Hey," Tyler said, voice loud again, "eat. It's good food. Let's not waste it."  
  
_Act natural. Don't look so nervous,_ he meant.

Jenna looked down at her food. Eating was the last thing she wanted to do now, and nausea bubbled its way through her insides at the thought of anything going down her throat. Still, she picked up her fork and knife and forced herself to eat. Everything tasted metallic and bitter as she chewed, and she could barely swallow. Tyler was likely just as terrified as she, but he was very good at pretending that nothing was wrong. He ate quickly and smiled when the waitress came by and asked how they were doing, even asked for ketchup. She hoped she looked normal too.

"So how did that job interview go?" he asked, and she was confused for a moment before realizing he was pretending.

"I'm not so sure. I mean, everyone says that but I really don't know if they'll say yes or not."

She hoped the tenseness in her voice could be mistaken for flustered nervousness about her fictitious interview. Tyler hummed and nodded, taking a small bite of his fried steak. 

"I don't think you'll need to worry. I mean, most people don't even get to an interview. You've been working management for how many years now?"

"Six," she said.

"Exactly. They want someone with experience, and that's definitely you."

It was weird hearing Tyler treat her so kindly, as if they were good friends that met at work or through a mutual acquaintance. The light caught his face and for a moment, he looked as innocent as the setting around them, a small spot of ketchup in the corner of his lip. This might have been real in a quieter world. The scars on Tyler's face could just be from acne, and Jenna's anxiety might be from hoping she got a new job. The criminals on the loose might be some other lost souls.  

The TV didn't bring them up again. The waitress kept staring, but maybe she did that to make up for the lack of speaking.  
  
"Check, please!" Tyler said once they had finished as much as they could.  
  
The waitress came around and took the cash, disappearing into the back for an oddly long time before returning with the receipt and change.  
  
"Have a nice day, you two," she said, and her voice was soft.  
  
They nodded at her and left, and Jenna could feel her eyes on their backs as they left. 

"Oh my God," Tyler said once they were safely away from the diner. "I was probably like three seconds away from wetting myself in there."

"I think she knows."  
  
"Yeah."

"Ugh. Shit."

They wandered through town, unsure of where to go. It was only twelve, and the train would be fixed by three. Jenna trailed behind Tyler as they passed dated buildings. Her eyes caught on little receipt sticking out of Tyler's pocket as she followed him. There was something written on it. Curious, she snatched it from his pants and inspected it, change flying out everywhere.  
  
"Hey!" he said.  
  
She ignored him. There was a note on the back of the receipt in rushed blue writing.  
  
_Destroy this note. Go to Pittsburgh, find the One Eyed Jack by 8 and order a Wildfire. URSA can help._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a lot more political, and that's here to stay. I really wasn't able to wrap my head around the danger that would come with a Trump administration and feel it holistically (depression is fun) but these last few weeks have really kicked my ass into gear. Y'know, when I started writing this, I at first intended to make the universe a sort of exaggerated version of our own. But now that we have our new 'president', I've found that even the most horrible touches in this universe are actually preferable compared to to what this man has done and plans to do. I'm gonna have to start making some revisions fast, lol.
> 
> Poor Gerard. He's just one more ordinary guy that got fucked over. No powers that could make resistance to both the government and drugs easier, his mental health is just b l e h and he misses his family. He's made mistakes and wants to fix them but has no way to do so. He's been living like this longer than most others have. Protect him.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know there's no train that heads from New York to Columbus, but now there is, fight me. I fucken love trains, and I love Carrie Fisher, so I created a train station just to name it after her.
> 
> Hooo boy, this was a lot of notes. But thanks for reading, and happy Lunar New Year! Stay strong.


	10. Her Eyes Were Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for a short description of child pornography. Nothing graphic, but it's there.

**March (2010)**

Tyler and Josh were in the library. Josh was finishing up a paper, and Tyler was texting someone. He would look over at Josh's essay on his laptop every once in a while and ask him the meaning of his writing. It felt nice explaining things to Tyler. He always listened so intently.  
  
"So, yeah. People actually have pretty crappy memories, especially if there's a weapon or something distracting on the scene. There was a story about a guy who robbed a store, and he had a bright orange bandage on his face. When the cops came to interview the witnesses later, they couldn't give them any information about what the guy looked like aside from the bandage. Pretty smart of him."  
  
"Wow. I've gotta try that sometime," Tyler said, half in jest, and Josh smiled and kept writing. He had a few paragraphs left. He had been working for about an hour and a half now, and he was getting pretty tired. He rubbed his eyes and stretched.  
  
"Hey, you should take a break," Tyler said. "Walk around a bit so all your blood doesn't go to your butt. I wanna do something on the computer anyways."  
  
"Do what?" Josh asked, saving his work and minimizing the window. He passed the computer to Tyler, who settled it on his lap. Josh scooted a little closer to Tyler, almost resting his head on his shoulder.  
  
"I've been talking to this girl in my class, her name's Amiele," Tyler said, opening his phone to show him a picture of a pretty black woman with a shaved head and a bright smile. Josh wondered where he was going with this. "She sits next to me. She got into the hacking scene a few months back, and I asked her about it. She said she'd teach me if I wanted, and I said yes. She sent me a copy of a 'Hacking for Dummies' ebook that she found somewhere and torrented. That's literally what it's called."  
  
He went to his files and opened a PDF, showing Josh a document about a hundred and fifty pages long.  
  
"She didn't have the time to teach me on her own, obviously. She's busy doing stuff."  
  
"Hacking stuff?"  
  
"Yeah. She works with her girlfriend and, like, sees if she can find any dirt on people and turns them in for cash. I think she does other stuff too, more dangerous, but she won't tell me. I get that. I didn't tell her what we do either, though I think she knows, too."  
  
Josh felt a little relieved at the mention of the words 'her girlfriend'. No one was going to steal Tyler away any time soon.  
  
"So yeah," Tyler said. "She's cool."  
  
Josh nodded. "Tell me how it goes," he said, "I need to go to the bathroom."

  
  
Tyler was absolutely absorbed by the book. He was still reading it by the time they were back in the van that evening.  
  
"This book has honestly taught me more in one day than my entire Programming class," he told Josh.  
  
"Really?" Josh asked, wiping his face with a baby wipe. He needed to shave tomorrow.   
  
"Mmhm. I already know C++, and I'm starting on Python, which probably made things easier for me, but seriously, I'm-- I'm learning. It's like a miracle."  
  
Josh thought Tyler didn't give his intelligence enough credit. He wasn't a fast learner, but he made up for it with dogged dedication to studying something until he knew something inside and out.  
  
"What are you gonna do with your new powers?" Josh asked. "Also, you should get ready for bed. I'm beat, and you know I can't fall asleep until you do."  
  
"The same thing as Amiele," Tyler said, exiting the window. "Though she made me promise that we don't go after the same person. And that I not name her, ever, if I-- we get caught. And yeah, sure, gimme like five more minutes, I'm almost at the end of this chapter."  
  
"Wait, we?" Josh asked. As devoted to Tyler as he was, he was hesitant about plunging even deeper into the criminal world.  
  
Tyler looked at him, light from the laptop glinting off his lenses.  
  
"You don't want to do it? I mean, I get why, you don't have to get involved if you don't want to--"  
  
"I didn't say I didn't want to,  per se," he said. "It's just... hacking is way more dangerous than what we've been doing."  
  
Hacking. The word felt foreign on his tongue, a concept worlds away from their simple reality of thin quilts and stolen, empty wallets piling up in a plastic bag. It wasn't a word he'd associate with Tyler, cool and smooth against his emotional and imaginative.  
  
"That's true. But we'll be able to make cash more easily. You can get up to two thousand dollsrs for anonymous tips to the cops, you know. We can get out of this van and rent a real place. We can have running water and electricity again. No risk, no reward."  
  
A frisson of coveteousness ran through Josh, and his need for the luxuries he had learned to forget about and go without suddenly came over him all at once. He realized he hadn't had a hot bath in months. Or slept in a bed with a frame in an actual room. Tyler's proposal suddenly sounded very tempting.  
  
He had always been told about how the anonymity of the internet provided one safety...  
  
"You're right," Josh said. "I kinda forgot about all that stuff."  
  
"It's so easy to get used to things."  
  
"I know. It's kind of scary when you think about it. But this isn't normal. We shouldn't have a ten percent unemployment rate."

"And minimum wage shouldn't be ten dollars. People shouldn't have to lose their homes to pay for medicine. I'm so grateful that neither of us have gotten sick this whole time."  
  
"Well, now you've jinxed it. But yeah, you're totally right. We had to take a small sociology unit in my Psych class, they talked about how money collects at the top. One percent of America has, like, half our wealth. Which translates to literally trillions of dollars."  
  
"Yeah. And if you have that kind of money, what are you even going to do with it? You couldn't possibly hope to spend it all in a lifetime. They just let it sit in foreign banks and collect interest and pay almost no taxes. They're literally stealing it from us."  
  
"And that's why we're want to steal it back," Josh said.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"It's terrible. Hey, pass me my shirt."

Tyler started practicing the very next day. He started simple, making little programs that would open your CD drive or displayed messages, all simple and harmless. Josh tried copying them from time to time, but he had no idea how the code worked or what it meant.

Still, Tyler was determined to include him.

"An important component of a successful hack is social engineering," Tyler read from the file. "Many hackers pose as government or corporate workers and authorities over the phone or face-to-face in order to get the information they need from others. Intimidation and people's respect for authority can often be exploited to your benefit."

"I think I could tackle stuff like that," Josh said. "The code is hard for me because I've never done it before, but you have. And I'm taking Psychology, so I already have some kind of background in knowing how people work. Like, it's gonna be hard-- I hate making phone calls or going out-- but I'll do it. I wanna get better at handling it."

"You've got experience. I think you'll do great, Josh."

Tyler rested a warm hand on his shoulder. 

"Thanks," Josh said, and his heart bubbled like soda.

It took him a week before Tyler felt confident enough to actually try anything. He wrote a simple worm, one that would copy and send back to Tyler any files found in the hard drive of an infected computer. Luckily for him, their security turned out to be pretty poor. A quick scan using a program Tyler made for a previous assignment found plenty of entry points.  
  
They gave the worm the day to spread through the entire network before they'd look through the results. It was small and simple, probably weak enough to get caught by any antivirus program, but Amiele's earlier tinkering rendered any antivirus on the installed almost entirely useless.  
  
The report was in by morning, and even though each copy was much smaller than the actual original file, the entire .zip file took up more than twice the storage in Tyler's computer. Thankfully, the computer lab was available, and the desktops there were much more powerful than Tyler's dinky old laptop. Josh took a chair from the next desk and sat next to Tyler, who had scooted his seat over a few inches to give him room. They sat, side by side in the cold room.  
  
The results were mostly innocent: projects and essays from all kinds of majors, some emails that were still encrypted, music, photos, and videos of varying explicity, and all sorts of half-finished papers. Normal stuff.  
  
And then, a file named _ourkids.zip_. It was much larger than most of the other results. It was probably family photos, and probably from an older administrator, not a student.  
  
Tyler unzipped the file and looked at the menu. Each smaller file had a name. Jenny. Tommy. Helen. Chris.  
  
"Kind of weird to separate your pictures by child," Josh said.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Tyler clicked the first of the folders. A viewing window popped up, and it was---  
  
It was--  
  
It took Josh a good momemt to process what he was seeing.  
  
It was a picture of a young girl, naked and in a suggestive position on the ground. The bare legs of several men surrounded her like a ring of trees, like bars of a cage, and he could see faces and bodies just beyond the reach of the camera's flash, enveloped in shadow, ominous, anonymous. Her face was turned to the camera. Her eyes were blue.  
  
In a panic, Tyler quickly exited the window. They looked around to see that no one had seen what they had seen and got the wrong idea.  
  
"What the fuck," Tyler breathed.  
  
"What _was_ that?!"  
  
"Child pornography is what that was," Tyler said, and they looked at the screen again. They were back at the opened zip's menu, looking at the other files that they now knew held images of other exploited children. Revulsion curled in his gut.  
  
"Who sent this? Or recieved it?" Josh asked.  
  
Tyler clicked back one page further, revealing the owner's IP address.  
  
"Twenty-nine, one fourteen, two twenty-nine, forty two. No idea who that is. We'll find out soon enough, though."  
  
Tyler pulled out his phone and immediately texted Amiele. Josh looked over at his screen

  
  
_Dude, we found something. They didn't even encrypt it. Do you recognize this address? 29.114.229.42_  
  
Sent by Tyler at 10:57 AM

  
  
He slid the cover closed and set it down on the desk, right next to the keyboard. He buried his head in his hands.  
  
"Should we report it to the cops?" Tyler said. "No, that's the wrong question-- we have to, but _how_ are we going to do this?"  
  
Josh thought. The monitor timed out, and a screensaver popped up. Colorful pipes wound their way across the screen into an infinite blackness. His head felt like that, all his thoughts and ideas tangling together and hitting dead ends. This took him entirely by surprise. He didn't think they would find anything. But they did.  
  
Tyler's phone vibrated. Amiele had texted back.  
  
_nope. it's all yours, tyler. amazing that they didn't encrypt it though. think it's a trap? we've been stealing files from the network for months now, maybe someone caught on and is trying to get us, and you're the one who stumbled across it. be careful_  
  
Sent by Amiele at 11:00 AM  
  
  
_Thanks. We will._  
  
Sent by Tyler at 11:01 AM

 

Tyler put down his phone and now got to work finding the owner of the computer. He seemed visibly shaken, and he kept hitting the wrong keys. Josh would hold his arm, but he was pretty sure his still-trembling hands would be of little help. He got up to go to the bathroom. His stomach felt a little queasy. He washed his face with cold water from the sink and leaned on the counter, staring into the mirror. He breathed in, and out, bringing his rhythm away from its shallow, erratic temp and down to a steadier ebb and flow.

Feeling a littlr better, he left and drank some water from the fountains outside the bathroom. The cold water soothed his stomach, and he shook his head and stretched his muscles to calm the shaking that remained.

"Josh, Josh! Get over here!"

Tyler had suddenly appeared by Josh's side, ignoring the lab's rule of silence and dragging him back to their seat.

"You will not believe who it is," Tyler said, curling a hand through his hair as he looked at the computer and blocked Josh's view, as if he himself were looking at it for the first time a well.

"Who? Tell me!" Josh said, trying to see past Tyler's head. He was sick again with anticipation.

"It's the President of the college. Look," Tyler said, moving back to point at the screen and holding up a sheet of paper he seemed to have procured from nowhere.

"Wait-- what am I looking at?" Josh asked. Nothing seemed to have changed on the monitor, and Tyler's writing was messy and rushed. He took the paper from Tyler and inspected it more closely. It was chicken scratch, letters loopy and excited.

"I looked at the other files that had the same IP address as that file," Tyler explained, "and a lot the stuff that was saved is addressed to or signs off as the President. See?"

Tyler selected a file, and several pictures of the President and his wife appeared. More files revealed letters sent from professors and more porn, some legal and some not. There were several emails as well, encrypted by the email service he used, more damning evidence that had yet to be revealed. 

"Holy shit," Josh said.

"I'm, like, seventy-five percent sure it's him. If it was someone else hiding their stuff in his computer, they would have encrypted it, or at least given it a name that wouldn't make it seem obvious."

"That makes sense. Do you think he took those pictures, or did he get them somewhere online?"

"If it's the former, then he's gona be in way bigger trouble than he would be if he just bought it."

Josh dragged his hands over his face. "God. X out of that thing, I don't want to look at it anymore."

Tyler exited and turned off the monitor. The loss of the screen's white glow seemed to calm them down. Some of his anxiety subsided, and what replaced it was anger. This was wrong. 

"Should we turn them in to the cops right now?" Tyler asked.

Josh thought for a second. "No."

"Wait, why? We could get plenty of cash--"

"We know how this ends. We're taking him to jail, no doubt about that. But he's rich. He's got hookups. It doesn't matter how much people hate this kind of stuff; we all know that if you have enough money, you can get away with anything. You remember what happened with Donald Lukens, right?"

"One month in jail and a five hundred dollar fine for raping a thirteen year old for three years."

"Exactly."

"Where are you going with this, Josh?"

They were this deep in the rabbit hole already. But Tyler was right: the good thing to do was never the easiest. They could just file a report and go. That was as far as their obligations went. But really, how effective would that be? Mr. Bruhn had a salary of three hundred thousand dollars a year. He could have his sentence cut, or his charges dropped. He was well-respected and was polite to his subordinates. Even something as serious as possessing child pornography wouldn't likely tarnish his reputation in the long run. The law couldn't-- wouldn't punish him.

Josh swallowed.

"We blackmail him."

* * *

**March (2017)**

XIII.

It was early evening by the time the train made it to Pittsburgh. The air was still a little warm from the daylight that had graced the skies, but the temperature was dropping quickly in the shade of the skyscrapers and neither of them had a jacket. Jenna tried to hide her shivering as Tyler searched for directions on a stolen phone. She had spent many nights in prison in the cold; she refused to let one night in a warm train car weaken her this much.

Eventually their path led them to the underbelly of the city. The crumbling pavement and the constant smell of urine reminded her of one of the neighborhoods she had lived in as a young girl. She had lived in a bungalow, though, not in a cramped, boxy apartment building like the ones here. Tyler didn't seem too bothered either, though his own numbness wasn't inherited like hers. 

Jenna kicked a stray brown bottle. Her strength sent it flying farther than she had intended it too, and it shattered against the brick wall of a building, the sound ringing sweet and clear over the sound of traffic.

Tyler started at the sound, and he stared at the little pieces of glass as they passed them, his eyes looking like two shards taken from the ground and set into his face, brown and shining and brittle. She wondered why he looked so dazed. Trauma, most likely. She felt a small stab of pity. 

They stopped in front of a one-story, windowless building. A man dressed in black waited at the entrance, eyeing them as they stopped. There was a neon sign above the door that had yet to be illuminated for the night, spelling 'The One Eyed Jack'. 

This was the place.

The bouncer let them in. It was surprisingly crowded for a weekday. She initially suspected that this place was a drug den, but they got no suspicious glances as they passed them and their conversations were about their workdays and their worries about the banks collapsing again. The seats were made of cheap vinyl and plastic, and the dusty, greasy yellow lights flickered, making it dark enough to conceal the details of their features. But the floor beneath their feet was clean and the air smelled fresh. Soft music played from a hidden speaker, a genre Jenna didn't recognize. 

There was a clock on the wall reading the time. Seven forty-three. They weren't late. 

They eyed the menu hung up on the wall behind the counter. Cheap drinks and food were listed in neat rows of chalk. 

"We should get something to eat," Jenna said. "We might be here for a while."

"Sure. Water too," Tyler said. 

"You don't drink?" she asked.

"I feel like this is a bad time to be drunk."

She shrugged. "Good point."

Jenna took that as her cue to find somewhere to sit. She scanned the room for an empty booth and spotted one two tables from the farthest corner. She wove through the other patrons and sat down, grateful to rest her feet. Tyler returned a few minutes later, sliding into the same side as her with a two glasses of soda. He must have thought they needed the sugar. 

"Why are you--"

"The guy's gonna sit across from us," he explained.

They sipped their sodas in silence. The food would take some time to arrive.  

After about ten minutes of waiting, a little after their food has arrived and had promptly been eaten, a man about their age sat down on the opposite end of their booth. He looked stressed and unkempt, with a crumpled backpack, uncombed hair and dark shadows under his eyes. 

"'Sup," he said. "I'm guessing you're Tyler and Jenna."

They nodded. 

"And I'm the asshole you've been hearing about in the news lately."

"Ursa," Tyler supplied.

"Yeah. My name's actually Mark. Eshleman, if you want a last name too. By day, I work for Google, and by night, I don't."

Jenna was surprised that he just gave away so much information within the first five seconds of meeting them.

"So what are you here for?" Jenna asked, intending to get to the bottom of this.

"A couple of things," he said. "One of your old friends, team members, not sure who, reached out to me a while back, saying that they wanted to make a trade."

Jenna felt as confused as Tyler looked.

"You have any clue as to who that is?" Mark asked. 

"No," Tyler said. "Twenty One Pilots never told each other who they were, to protect ourselves. We're hardly a team, too-- we just work together sometimes. That's why no one came for me when I got arrested."

"I see. Because whoever that was said that they'd give me and my pals some information if I helped you."

"Helped me what? And what did they offer to tell you?

"Get out of jail, take you to Columbus, and then continue working with you. I know you lost your... partner during the sting. I think they wanted someone to replace Dun, and not them, for whatever reason. If I were them, I'd be vying for it."

Mark could not have possibly said anything worse than that. Jenna watched, unease growing in her gut as shadows crawled up Tyler's skin. She didn't know if Mark had any powers of his own (doubtful), and she also didn't know if she was on Tyler's side (also doubtful), but she wasn't going to let Tyler's unchecked, misdirected grief ruin this meeting. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, and to an outsider, this would be a comforting, gentle gesture from a girlfriend but to them, the pressure was a reminder-- or a threat. Tyler swallowed and begrudgingly let it go.

"I know how close you two were," Mark said, backing off. "I don't want to do that."

"I got out of jail on my own," Tyler said. "And Josh isn't dead. Not yet, at least. Also, you can say it. He's my partner, my boyfriend, whatever people call people in a romantic relationship. Those rumors are true. And I have no information for you. The cops cleaned out the whole house. I don't know who that person is, or if they even have anything to do with Twenty One Pilots. I doubt it."

Mark seemed deflated. "Ah."

"Still," Tyler said, changing the topic before Mark could ask about Josh, "I am pretty impressed from what I've seen of you. You said you have friends. How big is your network?"

"Definitely not as big as yours. I only started in 2014, and only took the pseudonym this year."

Jenna felt oddly upset that Tyler could get along with Mark so easily after so much trouble from him. Hackers.

"What do you guys stand for? What's your message you wanna get out into the world?"

Mark seemed to be waiting for that question, an overeager interviewee. "We stand for what you do. Feeding the poor and getting the rich under control. The death of corporate influence over government parties and the concept of corporations and government parties themselves. The end of war for profit, and surveillance on the people and the suppression of non-conformist ideas."

"And unlike most people, you've actually done something about it. You guys organized."

Mark nodded. "We set up a fake foundation, to reach more people. You ever heard of the Polaris Foundation? All the money that we take goes through it, to make it look like donations and then it goes into food banks and other organizations around the country. We're working on building at least one food bank and one low-incoming housing complex in every state as a cover for us just giving money to people. So far we've only gotten Ohio, Florida, and Texas, but we're working on it. And if we work with you, I'm sure it'll go even faster."

"I think I actually donated some money to you guys at one point, before I went to prison. Genius."

"Thanks."

Mark turned his focus onto Jenna. He didn't seem too insane, actually. Just excited.

"So," Mark said. "Jenna Elizabeth Black. You're the guard who was crazy enough to join Tyler Joseph on a goose chase to Columbus."

"That's me."

"Do you regret it?"

"A bit. But we live in the same town, so it's just cost-effective for us to go together. It's been rough so far."

"You don't get along?"

"Nope."

Mark frowned. "Hmm. You guys look like you'd work well together. Then again, I've only just met you two, so I guess I'm not the one to decide."

"No," Jenna agreed. "We've managed to maintain some peace today, but I'm not holding out hope for tomorrow. That's too much good news."

"Were you always a guard?" Mark asked.

"No. I used to be a boxer."

She was only half lying when she said this.

"Pro? Or amateur?"

"Both, I guess. I remember some pretty big crowds."

"Wow. What made you stop?"

"The job offer to work as a guard. It's a step higher, and it takes a lot less energy to be a guard, and lowers my chances of getting brain damage over the years. You can't box forever. And I got armor when I was there."

"Good point. What motivated you to leave?"

"Tyler. He can be pretty convincing at times. Or coercive," she said, remembering how he had stared at her in the surveillance tower. Tyler would sometimes get that look in his eyes every once in a while, and seeing it again always unnerved her. He was giving her that look right now. 

"Well, you can't successfully demand ransom from people if you're not a little bit of both," Mark said.

There was a beat of silence.

"Why are you two going to Columbus?" Mark asked.

"That's where Josh is," Tyler said.

"Wait-- has he been in hiding the whole time? I didn't get to ask before. No one's seen a trace of him."

"Kind of," Tyler said. "It's his powers that saved him, I think. He-- he kinda _shattered_ , when he got shot. So his consciousness, his soul, is still in the house. And in me."

He tapped his cheek, and now Jenna could faintly see the outline of something under his skin, like the chips once in their wrists. Jenna rubbed her scar at the memory of the pen digging into her flesh, crude and imprecise and more painful than she had wanted to admit.

Why hadn't Tyler told her about this? She sat back, promising herself to confront him about it as soon as they were alone. She would have believed him much sooner had he shown her physical proof that he had been carrying this entire time. 

Oh God, confronting him meant that she'd have to admit that she was wrong. 

Mark seemed in awe by Tyler's story, and Jenna was pretty sure that he'd already be willing to die for him if Tyler asked him too. There was a time when she felt like that too.

Mark's phone chimed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it. Tyler seemed to be in a good mood now that he had finally met someone who believed him. Jenna felt a little left out. It was better that she not get involved, the less they knew about her, the easier it would be for her to return to her old life.

"The car should be here in a few minutes," Mark said. "I'm not going with you, for security's sake. But it was nice meeting you two."

He scooped up his belongings and was gone as quickly as he came. Tyler sat quietly, staring at the empty booth in front of him, stroking his cheek.

"Tyler."

"Yeah?"

She schooled her voice to sound as neutral as possible. Tyler was incredibly defensive about Josh, and to discover anything new, Jenna realized she'd have to be patient.

"Why didn't you tell me about your cheek?" she asked.

Tyler swallowed and looked at her. "I didn't see the point. And I didn't want to approach you about it."

"Why didn't you think it was worth it?"

"You already didn't believe me."

"And I'd deny physical evidence?"

Tyler shrugged. "I wasn't thinking right."

 _You really don't do much of that,_ she thought.

"Fine," she said aloud. "You should know that I've had inklings before."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Back in prison, the day we got out. I felt something in the room there with me. Was that him?"

"Yep."

"Can he hear me now?"

"He's not here."

"Then where is he?"

Tyler shrugged. "I'm not sure. He comes and goes. He comes most often in the mornings, the night makes him weaker. I can't feel him around right now. He must be at the house. That's where he says he is most of the time, since more of him is in there."

He was definitely opening up now, the oyster resisting the jabbing of the shucking knife for so long suddenly splitting open to reveal grey cerebral matter and crooked teeth behind hard, sealed lips. "You mentioned something about pieces of him being stuck in the house," she said.

"Yeah. They shot him, and he wasn't in his human body, not entirely, when that happened. So it was like shooting a lightbulb. Somehow he fractured into little pieces like glass, and a lot of it got buried as shrapnel in the walls. One piece got stuck in my face, and that's why I can see him. I was pretty sure I was going crazy for a while, but now I'm pretty sure it's real."

"I thought so too."

"It happens a lot in there, doesn't it?"

Jenna nodded. "Usually it happens pretty quickly, too. The ones who crack take only about six months, and the ones who don't never do."

She never cracked in prison. That happened long before she ever showed up in chains. 

"Maybe I would have really gone crazy if I was in there for that long."

"I wouldn't be surprised. It's the people with abilities that're prone to it more than others."

"Josh thinks it's trauma. Like, powers are a coping mechanism. Some people dissociate, some people regress, and some people get superpowers. Which is why the people who have them are more likely to become criminals, have shorter lifespans, or be poor, or go crazy in prison. It's not their powers that are the cause. It's a symptom of something bigger."

Jenna had never heard that theory before, but it made sense to her. It explained her own experiences. And the news articles she had read and watched about Tyler and Josh suggested that they had troubled upbringings. Interesting.

"I'd believe that," she said.

"Josh has always wanted to write some sort of paper about it, but he can't really get the data for it or publish it without revealing himself. No one cares about mutants except mutants themselves."

"Sucks."

"Yeah."

A car honked outside, the sound traveling through the walls of the building.

"I think that's our ride," Tyler said, getting out of the booth. Jenna followed.

They left the bar, Tyler leaving a generous tip on the table. They nodded at the bouncer as they exited, and waiting at the curb under a bright street light, was a plain sedan that looked like it had once been a taxi. The whole thing had been painted black, covering whatever company name and number that might have been painted on its body, and the car looked vintage. The bulletproof barricade between the driver and the passengers was still in place. The silhouette of the driver was obscured by the low hood.

"Think it's a trap?" Tyler asked.

"Probably."

They got into the car, Jenna taking the left seat, behind the driver, and Tyler taking the right.

"Columbus?" the driver asked.

"Yep," Tyler said.

The driver switched gears and merged onto the quiet road, and Jenna fumbled to buckle her seatbelt as she stared out the window. She was unfamiliar with this part of the country and didn't know if the driver was headed the right way. Well, what did that matter? She was in a _car_.

She had spent most of her life without a car (and when they had one, her parents hardly used it) and driving through the city at night was always one of her most favorite things. She rolled down the window, something she couldn't do on the train, and she was tempted to stick her head out the window like a happy dog, but one heart-to-heart with Tyler wasn't going to change the fact that he didn't need to see her acting like a little child. She resigned herself to leaning her head against the headrest and letting the cool air rush over her, ignoring the goosebumps that raised the hairs on her arms, because everything felt a little lighter. She stared at the lights as they rushed by, leaving fiery streaks in her vision, and she wondered if Josh was somehow watching her from the glowing comets.

She fell asleep, imagining that the bright lights they passed were pairs of glowing eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient waiting for this chapter. I got sick in February and didn't get better for two months, hence the long wait. I wish I could promise that updates will come faster now, but I can't make any guarantees. So I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations, even though it was shorter than normal! Kudos/comments are appreciated (as is criticism).
> 
> Donald Lukens was an actual guy. He was the Ohio representative in the House of the Representatives before Boehner replaced him the next election. In 1989, he had been caught on film talking about having sex (and paying to do so) with sixteen year old Rosie Coffman. The age of consent in Ohio is sixteen, but it's reported that he had been taking advantage of her since she was thirteen. Instead of going to prison for statutory rape, he was charged with 'contributing to the delinquency of a minor' and was given a 180-day jail sentence and a $1,000 fine. However, the judge cut that sentence in half. He was also charged with accepting five different bribes while serving in Congress, one as large as $15,000. When he was 42, he married a model half his age. This man was a dumpster fire.
> 
> The Polaris Foundation is an actual foundation, though I'm pretty sure they're not a money laundering cover run by a Twenty One Pilots fan. I mostly just picked the name because Polaris, Ursa Minor? Yeah. Fun fact: Mark actually named himself after Ursa Minor, not Major. Not that that bit of trivia will ever show up in canon, but hey.
> 
> I actually don't know if Jenna's middle name is Elizabeth. I saw someone say that once, and it's entirely possible that it's fake but hey, I've never met anyone without a middle name so I'll just go with Elizabeth until new information arises.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
